The Trapped Assassin
by SarahsSupplyCloset
Summary: After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most lethal assassin is ordered to take vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Will he be enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known? Charah AU
1. Prologue

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** This is an Alternate Universe Charah story. As I've warned previously, there will be sexual content in this multi-chapter fic, so if you aren't jive with that, this might not be the story for you. Please note that this is a story with an actual plot, however, which means it won't only be sex.

I also feel the need to add that I am loosely (very loosely!) basing this general story idea off of the 2010 romcom called "Killers". I saw it on TV with my friend and couldn't stop thinking about Chuck and Sarah because I'm obsessed. However, I will deviate quite a bit from the plot of that film, because it was not a good film by any stretch of the imagination. I just liked the way the main characters met.

I really hope you all enjoy it! I am going to do my best to update this as regularly as possible.

 **Summary:** After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most successful and lethal assassin is ordered to take a couple weeks vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Is he enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known?

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I am not making any money writing this story.

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 **Chapter 1: _Prologue_**

 _5…4…3…2…1_

The man sitting alone in his office slumped forward, his head thumping onto his desk, before he lifelessly slipped out of his chair and hit the floor, disappearing from view.

She lifted her head away from her sniper rifle's scope and blinked, before pulling the rifle back from where it was perched on a ledge, sliding down the rock until she was no longer visible to anyone who might be looking up her way.

It only took a moment to dismantle the rifle before she slid it into a fold-up beach chair bag and tied it shut. Checking her bikini top and the wrap she wore over her bottoms, slipping her flip flops back onto her feet.

Tugging the tie at the base of her neck, she let her long, wavy locks spill over her shoulders, reaching up to fluff it a bit to make it look extra beachy. This _was_ Nice, after all.

When she trotted down the stone steps from her momentary sanctuary from which she'd carried out her latest job, turning down a small alleyway, and sliding into a small crowd of vacationers walking along the rows of expensive shops, other tourists saw a stunning, long-legged blonde wearing a dark green bikini that flattered her athletic figure, carrying a beach chair over her shoulder.

She smiled as she moved past a family and caught the mother's eye. And for a moment, she let herself ponder on how different the mother's returning grin might be if the woman knew she was looking into the face of a murderer.

Fighting back the niggling feeling of despondency and inadequacy that had begun to sneak into her subconscious in the last few months, she tucked the disguised rifle under her arm and trotted across the street to slip into the back entrance of the resort where she was staying. With a sweeping glance both ways, she stepped into the hallway and hurried through to the main lobby.

There was at least one good thing about this particular job she was on, in spite of the multitudes of awful, frustrating, annoying things, and that was the vibrant tan she had gotten in the last five days since she arrived.

Tailing Roland Taft had meant a lot of boating, a lot of lounging on pool decks, and one all-day dock party—all of which meant plenty of sun. (And, unfortunately, none of the fun.)

She would return to Langley with quite the glow.

In four weeks.

Which was when her "vacation" would be over. That was what CIA Director Langston Graham had called it. He was the only person in the agency whom she answered to. She was a ghost. Or as close to a ghost as one could get when you had her reputation. Wildcard Enforcer. And that was the nicest thing she had heard. Many said Graham had her in his pocket, and when he needed someone offed, he'd let her loose to do the offing.

It was despicable, cruel, disrespectful, mortifying…

For awhile.

And then she'd hardened enough to deflect it with jabs of her own when she could muster up the energy.

And now that she'd had time to really reflect on her life, on her job (which technically was her whole life), she realized it was all true. She wasn't like other people.

She was like Death. Stalking through life, moving through the throngs of humans who lived on this earth, and picking them off whenever her boss told her to. It had always been this way. Ever since she was recruited by him at 17 years old.

"How many? Combien?"

She looked over at the man gesturing wildly to the unamused but polite gentleman behind the desk.

"Do you understand French?" the man's wife asked.

"Oui, Madame. It is my first language."

With a smirk, the assassin turned away from the unfortunately common scene and continued towards the elevators. The smirk died as she remembered that her job wasn't entirely finished just yet. She still had to tell Graham that Roland Taft was dead. He would send a clean-up crew if it was needed.

But according to the file he'd handed her a week ago when he called her into his office, the drug smuggler Roland Taft was despised by many. Thus it had taken her some days to figure out when best to strike and how. When a man had bodyguards sticking to him like a bunch of leeches for eighteen hours of the day, it took time to distinguish when those remaining six hours were. Those were the hours when she would strike.

Before she went to her room, she had to inform Graham that she had succeeded. The man he had sent her after was gone. For good. She had sent the bullet through his brain. She had watched as he died. It had been immediate. That was how she preferred to do things, even in the beginning. Sometimes she couldn't. If things didn't go to plan, and she had to defend herself. The deaths weren't always quick. And those were the ones that got stuck in her ribcage like a newly sharpened dirk. Killing her slowly.

She'd feel them throbbing at night when it was quiet, lodged between her bones, threatening. Dark. Life-draining.

Instead of continuing to the elevators, she changed course and moved through the lobby and out of the back doors to the gated pool area. The pool was massive, the most massive pool she had ever seen in her life, in fact. And she wondered at the silliness of having a giant pool when the Mediterranean was your backyard.

She wondered at a lot of things these days—things she would never have wasted thought on even just one year ago. Something had changed. She didn't know what, or when. But it had. Maybe it was her last face-to-face meeting with Director Graham. He'd had this look in his eyes, or maybe it was the tilt of his mouth. She hadn't been able to figure it out, but it had felt…bad. She'd left the meeting feeling so discontent, and unhappy.

Maybe it had been even before that. Something planting a seed of disillusionment.

She couldn't shake it, try as she might.

Granted, her trigger finger hadn't hesitated for a moment when she shot Taft. She knew who he was, she knew how he operated, and she knew he deserved what she gave him. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of people in the world who would like to buy her a drink for what she did five minutes ago.

But he wasn't like some of the others…the ones she wasn't quite so sure about.

One week ago, she'd been standing in Graham's office, her hands folded in front of her in a professional stance, listening to him talk about Roland Taft. The DEA wanted him, but they weren't going to get him. At least, not in one piece. The world was better off with him gone. He would find a way to come back unless they put him 6 feet under. Graham would handle the DEA himself, as there was bound to be some bad blood, backlash. He'd just deny it was them, so don't leave any traces that will lead to the CIA, _Walker_.

The usual jargon he spewed at her when he was sending her on a hit.

They're a terrorist. _Terrorist terrorist terrorist._ What was a terrorist, these days? Who was a terrorist? Why?

So many questions.

Sometimes she listened to Graham and other times she didn't.

But then he had told her about Taft's vacation condo in Nice, along the Mediterranean. And how she would find him there with his wife and their four children. It was what he said after that, though…

Graham had all but ordered her to take some time off. He'd told her she needed a vacation—some time for herself. To recuperate and figure things out. She had never needed anything like that before. She would go, go, go, go until she couldn't go anymore. And even then…

But a vacation? And four weeks, for God's sake. It was a paid vacation, which was nice on the one hand, and on the other, the tone in which he'd said it and the hardness in his face told her exactly what he meant. This wasn't just a vacation—nor was it even a suspension. The CIA was deciding what to do with Director Graham's 'Wildcard Enforcer', and for that, they needed her out of the way.

They were placating her. As they decided her fate. And it pissed her off as much as it worried her.

Would she spend the rest of her time with the CIA sitting at a desk? Would she be pulled from the field completely? Just having turned 27 a week ago, she wasn't exactly old enough for retirement. Or would they retire _her_ with a bullet between her eyes?

No, they wouldn't do that. She wasn't giving them enough credit.

She was dangerous. Hence the 'wildcard' part of her nickname. And she was a legend. Part of that legend was that there was ice in her veins. She killed without blinking. Her heart was ice-cold stone. She was the perfect assassin.

And she was unrivaled when it came to hiding her true emotions behind a spy mask that was impenetrable, even by Graham on his best days. She let them think all of those things because it was easier. And because it meant people stayed the hell out of her path. It also left her friendless. But there was nothing new about that. Even before the CIA yanked her out of San Diego and plugged her into top secret Farm courses with one-on-one training, she'd been friendless. The broody brainiac with a jailbird dad and a grandma so old she was practically dead already.

The assassin swept her gaze across the pool deck and zeroed in on the figure of a man sitting at the bar underneath the cabana on the other side of the large L-shaped pool. He was very much in conversation with the attractive young woman on the stool beside his, completely ignoring the smartphone at his elbow.

She moved around the pool, dodging a little boy who raced across the cement and leapt into the water with an impressive splash. Leaning over the bar next to the man with the phone, she propped her elbows on bar top and covered his phone with her opposite hand as she asked for a cup of water.

The man didn't look away from his companion for a moment, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, and when the barkeep handed her the cup of water, she downed it in one gulp, set the cup down, and calmly strolled away, the phone clutched in her hand.

Waiting until she left the pool area and was safely hidden behind a nearby trellis, the assassin dialed the number Graham had told her when she stood in his office a week ago and held the phone to her ear.

The ringing ended and there was a faint click, a deep, but quiet voice coming on the line.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"What are you calling from?"

"I nicked a tourist's phone. It's safe."

There was a thread of amusement in Graham's voice, then. "You nicked it?"

"He won't miss it."

"Heh." There was a pause. "Is it done?"

She looked left and right, making sure no one was nearby to hear her. It paid to be careful 24/7. "He's retired."

"Good. Enjoy your vacation. See you in August."

"I'd like to discuss my status, Dir—" She was cut off by a loud click. "Sir?" She paused, hearing nothing. "Shit!" she hissed.

She peered down at the screen and let out a frustrated huff. The CIA had booked four weeks in an incredibly nice room at the resort for her, and she had to wonder if it was some sort of peace offering. They had to know she wasn't clueless when it came to this "vacation" they were sending her on. And they had to make certain they played nice with the Wildcard Enforcer.

There was a time when she would have been incredibly satisfied to know one of the most powerful intelligence agencies in the world feared her enough to go to great lengths to keep her happy. They knew what she was capable of and it made them nervous.

But for some reason, at the moment, that realization just made her feel tired. There weren't words in any of the languages she knew that could explain just how tired she was. She shifted the sniper rifle on her shoulder, as it suddenly felt phenomenally heavy. A burden she would've liked to get rid of as soon as possible, if she could. But where did one dispose of a sniper rifle in the resort city of Nice, France?

Maybe she could leave Nice and go somewhere else. If she traveled, she probably wouldn't have time to feel disillusioned and dissatisfied by everything in her life, by her career which just so happened to be her whole life.

"Idle minds" and all that. Maybe if she was looking at new sights and meeting new people…

And even as she dwelled on hopeful thoughts, she remembered a time when those things hadn't meant anything to her.

Or maybe they had. She'd just been so brainwashed and jaded by the agency that she actually believed in what she was doing and took pride in it. She still took pride in her skills, and she still honed them. But the way Graham was using them…

Sometimes she wondered if he was overusing her. Misusing her. Throwing her at a problem he could solve in some other way that didn't involve death. What if she was just a tool that the CIA whipped out to make things easier and quicker for them?

She couldn't help but wonder if the last ten years of her life had all been wasted. Was she some sort of puppet?

Of course she was. Even her pride couldn't deny that she was.

The assassin didn't have the energy to be angry. The vengeful thoughts that should have plagued her mind at that moment were nowhere to be found. She gently folded the phone up in her palm again and gnawed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.

She was never dysfunctional enough to see Langston Graham as a father figure. He was her mentor, yes, and her boss, definitely. But never a father figure. She had trusted him somewhat, and for awhile, but never enough to believe he always had her best interest at heart. And now it seemed like the best option was for her to move forward…and perhaps away. Away from him. Away from the CIA. Away from the government as a whole.

Yet, at the same time, this was all she knew. It was ingrained into her. She had nothing else.

That wasn't an exaggeration.

She literally only lived for her career. At least, that was how it had been until recently.

Recently, she had started enjoying the simple things—not just as a means to an end, but to simply _enjoy_ them. Like watching a child and a puppy play together in the park. Or listening to the rain outside of her window. Enjoying the sight of an attractive man passing by. How she had begun to take baths instead of showers, because they were so much more relaxing. Watching reality television shows on crappy motel TVs.

But now she had no mission. There was no one that needed to be killed.

And she found herself with nothing else to do but to try to…enjoy the scenery.

She walked back to the pool area and glanced over at the cabana. The man whose phone she had borrowed was no longer there. In fact, as she looked around the entire area, he was nowhere to be found.

Deciding she could use a drink anyways, she walked to the bar and sat down again, reaching down to surreptitiously set the phone on the seat where the man had been sitting. If he came back to look for it, he might assume it fell out of his pocket.

This time, she actually ordered a drink and took the time to enjoy it. She had nowhere special to be. In fact she had four whole weeks of having nowhere special to be. And she dreaded all four of them.

She heard the man at the other end of the bar ask for a wedge of lime for his beer and then heard the thunk of the citrus wedge plopping into the amber liquid inside of the bottle a few moments later. Perhaps after she finished her unoriginal choice of a piña colada, she might head upstairs, take a shower, and nap for the rest of the day.

Because why not?

If she was asleep, she wouldn't think about the implications of the CIA telling her to take a four week vacation after she made one small mistake. She knew of field agents who had done way worse than she had, who were not only still in the field, but now had high ranking positions within the agency. And of course, all of them were men.

After ten years of work, ten years of doing everything they asked her to do, she was being sent on four weeks of "vacation". What was really happening was that they were nervous about her. Nervous about whether or not she was still Graham's Wildcard Enforcer.

If the CIA's prize assassin was beginning to question why she did what she was ordered to do, if they knew she was wondering about whether or not her victim was guilty, if emotions were starting to overtake an agent's loyalty to her own country, that meant she was no longer useful to them.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how much of a liability she must be now, at least in their eyes.

If she continued to ask questions about her targets, if she continued to snoop and do research into their lives and dealings before carrying out her task, she might find something that would give her pause. And actually, that was exactly what had happened during the mission she'd failed.

She hadn't been able to shake the feeling, though, that her target didn't deserve to die like the others had. There were men and women who were violent, malicious, greedy, and deplorable—all of them met their end by her hand. And as far as she'd been told by Graham, they were murderers. Their actions had resulted in the taking of innocent lives, and they had to be stopped before more people died.

But when she had discovered that Nico Flores had spent time in communist Nicaragua in the 1980s, as well as some suspiciously vague accounts of involvement in political schemes that ended with a few U.S. agents' deaths, she couldn't help wondering whether the man was as guilty as he'd been charged. There hadn't been anything concrete, and she knew that if these things had been introduced in a fair courtroom, they'd potentially be dismissed as evidence.

It was no secret that the government she worked for feared and hated any sort of communist anything. She'd thought so long and hard about how many ways Flores could have been set up.

By the time she talked herself into taking the shot, he had moved and it merely grazed him. Another agent had luckily swept in to finish the deal, though he had been compromised in the process and ended up being shot as well.

Agent Cardwell had since recuperated to full health and was back in the field, but she was put on probation and received quite the lecture from her superiors about following orders.

Graham's eyes had been sharp, observant as he drilled into her. Duty comes before everything, he'd said. Duty, loyalty to your country, orders from her superiors. He repeated himself over and over again. The head of the NSA had even chimed in over the video conference, calling her actions irresponsible. She sat there and took all of it, her face unchanging. And as bad as she felt about Cardwell getting hurt, she refused to acknowledge any regret as far as taking that pause to reflect on the sort of man Nico Flores really was. A man who'd been afraid in his last few seconds of life, yes. A man who'd probably shot at Cardwell to save himself, but to no avail.

But Sarah would never say that out loud. She knew she'd be discharged and potentially thrown in some cell deep underground for awhile to stew.

She just remembered how suspicious the general and Director Graham had both looked as they glanced at one another while she apologized and promised to do better next time. Was she compromised? Or was this just a simple mistake? A one-time thing? Did they have to worry about her? Was she lying through her teeth to appease them, get them off her back?

A few days after her probation ended, Graham called her into his office and she was given this assignment. They urged her to stay for a month to "regroup" and think about her priorities. She "needed" a vacation, they said. She needed to "recalibrate", like she was some sort of God damn computer. She was working herself way too hard. And it was beginning to show, they said.

 _Fuck that_ , she thought to herself as she pressed the bridge of her nose with her fingers to alleviate the brain freeze from her piña colada. She was sick to death of her brain by this point, and she was sick to death of the drink, even though it was delicious, so she pushed it away and decided to immerse herself in a bubble bath. And perhaps she might blast the television mounted on the bathroom wall to distract her from dwelling on her future with the Central Intelligence Agency.

She stood up and placed a few euros on the bar, before walking away, lowering her sunglasses over her eyes and rounding the edge of the pool to move through the gate and back onto the jasmine-lined pathway that led to the side entrance of her building.

She had only gotten about halfway there, when she heard the gate slam behind her and a frenzied outcry. "Miss! Excuse me! Excusez-moi?"

Spinning with her hand hovering over the knife beneath her shirt, she saw a tall man walking towards her, the look on his face a little sheepish. She just stared with an eyebrow raised as he neared her, slowing down a bit now that she'd stopped.

So many different possibilities occurred to her. He was one of Roland Taft's goons. He was playing a part until he could get up close—close enough to take her out. There was no one else around at the moment. No one to see her fall, no one to see her die. Her fingers tightened on the blade.

She was ready, her face hard, unmoving. Trying to stifle her panic, be a professional. She didn't want two deaths on her list for the day. But if she had to…

"I'm sorry. Or, uh…Désolé. Erm…Your phone. Cell. You left it on the bar." He mimicked throwing a drink back. And then he thrust the cellphone she'd stolen and purposefully left on the stool out between them. "Mobile," he said in a terrible French accent and then he winced.

Yeah, so this guy wasn't one of Taft's goons. He was an American. A tourist. Nobody could fake being that awful at French. And he had none of the markers of a habitual liar. There was nowhere he could hide a weapon, what with his swim trunks and tight-fitting T-shirt. And he didn't seem like the type of guy to know how to use said weapon if he had it.

She merely gave him a small smile to set him at ease, honestly amused to no end, even though he had actually done her a bit of a disservice. The poor guy thought it was the opposite, and she didn't have the heart to make him think otherwise.

So she reached out to take it, nodding with a soft, "Merci."

"You're welcome. Or, uh…whatever that is in French. Um…Have a good one. Or, uh…Bonne journée!" He made a popping noise with his lips and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "Right. Au revoir."

And then he spun on his heel and rushed in the other direction.

She snorted to herself and walked towards her building, tossing the phone into the trash bin by the entrance. The guy she'd stolen it from was rich enough to vacation at this resort in Nice, so he absolutely had insurance. Replacing his phone would be easy enough.

And with that, she disappeared inside, thoughts of hot water, bubbles, and orange-skinned rich people yelling at each other on a television screen making her forget about her troubles for the first time in a week.

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There's the first chapter! Interested in more? Leave me a review! Comment, ask questions, fire away!

Excited to hear what you all think! Soooo much more to come, and soon! Thanks for reading!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	2. Flirtation Jog

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** So here is the second chapter. I am very grateful to those of you who read my story, and thank you to everyone who took the time to review. Your words are very special to me, and to my writing process. I'm only human, and reading positive things about my stories makes me want to write until my eyes fall out. So thanks so much. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I am not making money writing this story.

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 **Chapter 2: _Flirtation Jog_**

"How far are you willing to go for her?" the wise older man asked the blond hero decked out in a flowy white tunic and black trousers tucked into tall boots. His hair was just as flowy as his shirt, and his jaw was clenched as he frowned, his answer steeped in bravery and adoration.

"To the ends of the earth if I have to!"

"Oh God," she groaned, turning off the television and flopping from her back onto her stomach. "To the ends of the earth if I have to!" she mimicked, her voice muffled by the pillow her face was pressed into.

She was bored. She was tired and bored and half-drowning in whatever the opposite of self-confidence was.

What she really wanted was to be on a jet, headed somewhere for another mission. Even with her feelings of inadequacy and disillusionment, if she could sink her teeth into another job, something to distract her, all of this would go away.

Her burner buzzed over on her nightstand, then. And she quickly crawled over the mattress and snagged it.

"Alone?"

"Affirmative."

"Good. We need you to do an extraction."

She scrambled up to sit on the edge of the bed and pushed her hair behind her ears. "An extraction. Where are you sending me?"

"You aren't leaving Nice, agent. Roland Taft has a yacht moored in the bay. Pictures will be sent to your phone after we hang up. The intel we're looking for is attached to the anchor of the yacht. If we can get our hands on that, all the better."

"It's attached to the anchor?" she asked, making a face.

"It was brilliant up until we got Morris to tell us where it was. Steal the chip on the anchor while it's moored, then get rid of the yacht."

"Get rid of it, Director, sir?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is there a reason you want the yacht gone?"

"The DEA won't have anything to search with the yacht gone. And they won't think to look for the intel."

"So we aren't giving the DEA the intel?"

"Not until we get what we want from it first,. You know the drill, agent. Do your job. We'll talk after."

"Yes, sir."

She hung up and stared at her phone. It beeped again and she opened the text. There were pictures from every angle. " _The Belladonna_ ," she said, reading the name of the yacht. "Typical." Rolling her eyes, she stood up from the bed and tugged her shirt over her head. She tugged her green bikini out of her suitcase and quickly changed into it, then glanced at the clock. Three hours until sunset. That was plenty of time for a good swim in the Mediterranean. Exercise gave her energy while also comforting her like nothing else in the world could. And she preferred to think of this as nothing more than exercise.

Her phone buzzed again. "Did you remember to bring the C4?" the text asked.

She rolled her eyes again. "Yes sir," she texted back, instead of what she wanted to say, which was "What am I, an amateur?"

It only took a few minutes for her to load it into her waterproof backpack, and she shrugged that on, holding her wetsuit, goggles, and snorkle all in one hand as she left her room.

The weather was perfect once she stepped outside and started down the path towards the beach.

It had been two days since she completed her last mission, two days since the last time she spoke to Director Graham. And she hadn't yet mustered the nerve to ask him what all of this meant. What was going to happen to her after the four weeks of "vacation"? Would she be sitting at a desk? Would she file reports? Oversee missions from Langley?

She didn't want any of those things.

She wanted her freedom back. The freedom to take a job and complete it however she saw fit. Like it used to be.

It was like she had a leash on, and as the months went by, it got shorter and shorter and shorter.

And she wondered—What would it be like to cut that leash? If she didn't work for the CIA anymore, what would she do? Where could she go? Would they follow her? Would they let her go? Or did she know too much?

Would she have to disappear off the face of the earth in order to live out the rest of her life?

And how long would the rest of her life even last?

Maybe once she got the intel, destroyed the _Belladonna_ , and safely handed it off to a CIA contact, Graham might change his mind. She could still be effective. But did she want to do this anymore?

She was in a haze as she padded onto the wooden dock where she would begin her next mission. A quick grab/blow-up job before dinner would give her more of an appetite at the very least.

"No, no, no. No, that wasn't—I just wanted to ask what sort of a board it is. I'm not—I'm not a thief!"

Turning around from where she was perched against the railing, she saw a young French man gesturing wildly at a taller man whose back was to her. He was accusing him of wanting to steal his surf board.

"I don't know what you're saying! I'm so sorry!" the American said, and she recognized his voice immediately. Smiling a bit, she walked closer, knowing no one else would help the poor guy out.

"What's going on?" she asked the Frenchman in his language.

"Stupid American walked up and grabbed my board!" he spat back in French. "He's trying to steal it!"

"He says he just wants to ask you about it. Do you really think he looks like the type to steal a surfboard?"

"Why did he put his filthy American hands on it?" He spat off to the side.

Sarah turned back to look at the American, amused to no end by the confused look on his face. Pity pricked at her heart, as well.

"He's American," she shrugged at the Frenchman. "Sometimes they don't know how to act in other countries. He didn't mean any harm."

The French surfer sniffed haughtily and ran his eyes down her form. She just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Here we go_ …

"Have you ever seen the sun set over the Mediterranean?" he asked, apparently having forgotten about the entire issue at hand.

"A few times."

"Would you like to see it with me? Tonight? My apartment overlooks the—"

"I have plans."

She turned back to the American and gestured to the board, still speaking in French because she knew he could pick out a few words, since he seemed to know he was being accused of theft. "You were going to take his board?"

"No!" he exclaimed, shaking his head vehemently. "Where would I even go with his board? I—You don't understand English, do you? No. Sorry. I—Non! Pas…erm…pas de prise. It's pretty! Magnifique! Beautiful board. Just wanted to look at it. Ask him about it."

She turned back. "He thinks your board is beautiful and he just wants to ask you about it."

"I have plenty of other boards just like it. You can use one if you would like to. Tomorrow morning? Sunrise?"

This guy was not going to let up, apparently, so she decided to end the situation as soon as possible.

She turned back to the American. "You should apologize," she said in French. "Excuses," she repeated. "Désolé." She thought maybe that he might understand, considering he used it the other day.

"Oh! Oh, of course! Oui! Monsieur, je suis désolé." He put his hands out, palm up. "No voler," he said a bit lamely.

The Frenchman grunted and shrugged. "J'accepte."

"Thank you," he breathed. "Merci. Merci beaucoup."

With a nod, the young man grabbed his board under his arm and turned back to her. "Are you sure you will not come? I will treat you to the best lobster in Nice. Maybe some champagne?"

"Oui."

"C'est la vie."

He dashed off then as though it was no matter, and she wondered how many other women were out there who would fall under the young man's spell. There were thousands of guys just like him here, perfect for some women, but she wasn't one of them.

"Thank you so much," the American was saying behind her.

She turned and shrugged a shoulder silently. And then she brushed past him toward the end of the dock.

"I—I didn't—Oh, okay. Right. You've got things to do. Me too. Yeah."

She raised her eyebrow at him over her shoulder and smiled a little. He swallowed thickly and seemed almost to sway a little on his feet. She stepped into the wetsuit and tugged it up her legs, aware that he was still watching as she pulled it the rest of the way up, sliding her arms in and skillfully zipping it closed. Then she stepped into the black flippers she'd had dangling from her backpack. "Adieu, mon garçon américain."

With a wink, she fitted the goggles over her eyes and inserted the mouthpiece of the snorkle between her lips. Then she dropped into the water and began her swim towards the bay where the _Belladonna_ was moored, smiling to herself as she thought she heard him yell "Adieu" in a slightly better French accent. She didn't look back, instead continuing to swim further out past the soft waves so that she could have a nice, leisurely swim.

 **Break**

There was no one that she could see on the deck of the yacht. Perhaps with Roland Taft dead, nobody saw the need to look after his possessions. His legal team would sweep it up in the coming days, perhaps give it to his family. Maybe they would sell it.

But by the time she was through here, there'd be nothing left to sell. And nothing left to search for the DEA. They'd look elsewhere for the intel, assuming nothing was left on the yacht.

Or maybe this was just Graham and the rest of her superiors giving Taft one more flash of the middle finger. Blow up his precious yacht. Unnecessary, since he was already dead.

If she didn't follow orders, however, she could kiss her career goodbye.

She peered out from behind the wooden dock's pillar and took a few deep breaths, and then she dove beneath the surface, kicking gracefully until she found the grainy bottom of the bay.

The _Belladonna_ 's anchor was sheer, silver, and shaped like a massive land mine. Or some sort of dangerous crystal poking out from the floor of an other worldly cave. It hadn't been cleaned recently, she could tell, so she really had to scratch at the rust with the chisel she had on her wetsuit's belt. It didn't take long for her to dislodge the waterproof canister from where it had been glued. It was only the size of her pinky, like a flat USB drive, but it had been a simple thing to find it.

And now she was headed back up to the surface, this time hugging the hull of the yacht as she came up for air. She blew the water out of the snorkel and submerged again, breathing freely with the snorkel as she skirted the surface and found the rope hanging over the port side railing.

She pulled the snorkel out of her mouth as she bobbed there beside the yacht, fixing her goggles to her forehead so that she could see more clearly, and grabbing the robe in both hands. She gave it an experimental tug, listened for any sounds on the deck, and began to pull herself up, bracing her flippered feet on the shining wall of the yacht as she climbed to the railing.

Peeking over, she saw there was one man. He stood in his bermuda shorts and boating shoes, facing the rest of the Mediterranean, and there was no mistaking the pistol in the holster at his belt.

Security? Or maybe just the captain?

Either way, she had to circumvent him. And there was no way around it—today would be his last day on Earth unless he managed to jump before the explosion. She couldn't afford to waste time saving him.

And he worked for a devil of a man. So maybe…

There was no point in wasting time to justify the man's death. She just had to do her damn job and get out of there.

She pulled herself up over the railing and swung her legs over, silent as she placed her feet on the deck and slid the flippers off. She picked them up quickly and rushed to the wall of the cockpit, crouching out of sight and fastening the flippers to her pack.

It only took a few moments for her to place the C4, before she slid around the front of the cockpit and reemerged on the other side. She had to get belowdecks.

"Hey—!"

The man who came upon her only had time for that, as he practically swallowed her fist a moment later. He would have flailed and yelled as he fell overboard if she hadn't knocked him cold with her punch.

But the pilot or whomever the man standing at the bow had been probably heard his colleague hit the water, as the splash had been loud. And she braced herself in a crouch to wait for him.

When he appeared, she sprang, her arm around his throat. She squeezed until he went limp, falling to her feet. Letting out a calming breath, she snuck down to the hatch and swung it open, quiet just in case someone was stationed down there as well.

She hurriedly moved down the steps, glancing around to look for any life.

And when she didn't find any, she moved deep into the belly of the yacht and stuck the C4 in the corner.

It was five minutes later that the assassin found herself top deck again, several bricks deposited in the yacht. The thing was a goner once she triggered the detonator.

"The hell are you—?"

She swung around with a blade already between her fingers, sending it into the man's hand before he could even point his gun at her. She heard voices coming around the corner of the cockpit as the sailor squealed in pain.

Leaving her knife behind, she ran the entire expanse of the main deck, not slowing down even as she heard bullets cascade off of the wall next to her. She brought her hands up to keep from getting caught by the wood chips flying in her direction, and as she swung herself up onto the railing, she clicked the detonator at her hip, leaping as far as she could away from the ship as it exploded behind her.

The power of it sent her whizzing through the air. It hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been. And she was still able to swim to the surface, easing herself away from the burning wreckage, breathing hard, grateful that she didn't feel any sting from shrapnel or being shot by the men who were surely dead on that deck by now, blown to smithereens.

"Sorry, DEA," she breathed to herself, before fixing her goggles and moving to hide underneath the dock as alarmed voices sounded from above. She swung her bag around, unhooked her flippers, and slid them on her feet one by one, and then she fixed her goggles and snorkel and dunked underwater, swimming back to safety well under the surface.

She ignored the shaking in her hands, chalking it up to adrenaline, trying not to let herself mentally count in her head how many people had died today thanks to her…and how many of them had been innocent.

 **Break**

During the night, it had drizzled on the coastal city, leaving the plants covered in dew, and the sidewalks smelling like wet pavement. The air was perfectly crisp and refreshing and the flowers were pungent, so she decided to change into black exercise pants and a blue sleeveless exercise top to go for a run. It was a perfect morning for a good jog along the water.

The sand felt wonderful under her feet as she reached the halfway point of her run, the waves lapping up around her toes every so often. There weren't many out at this time of the morning, as the sun had barely just risen. Surfers were out riding the waves, but nobody was on shore except for her.

She stopped, jogging in place for a moment, and then she stood still, taking a few deep breaths, her hands on her hips. Glancing over her shoulder, she decided this was as good a point as any to turn and go back. If she went too far, she'd hate herself later, even though she was barely winded.

Letting herself rest for a few moments, stretching to keep her limbs loose, she ambled over to the water and splashed some of it on her arms and neck. She found herself smiling at how good it felt, and then she stood up straight again and began to run back towards her hotel once more.

A good fifteen minutes had passed before she saw a figure moving along the water towards her. Someone else had decided it was a good morning for a run, apparently.

She inwardly shrugged and promptly lost herself in thoughts of her career and what was in store for her once she got back to Langley. The only person in the CIA who seemed capable of talking to her without being condescending was Graham, and he was the only one there she could depend on to stand up for her. If he buckled under pressure from his peers, she would be sitting in an office somewhere for the rest of her career. Doing what, she had no idea. Filing paperwork, maybe. Sitting on her hands for eight hours a day, Monday through Friday.

One thing was for certain, she was only passably decent at vacationing. Taking time for herself. Resting.

She needed to work. She needed a diversion. A job. A mission. Maybe she should have accepted the surfer's invitation yesterday.

That made her snort.

She didn't need _that_ sort of diversion. And anyways, she'd had to get the intel and blow the _Bella Donna_ up before the DEA could get onboard. She highly doubted the surfer would understand if she asked him to wait until she could kill a few henchmen, a pilot, and destroy a yacht before they enjoyed the sunset, some dinner, and most likely sex.

She rolled her eyes at herself. No, she didn't need that sort of diversion, she thought to herself as she and the other jogger passed one another.

"Hey! Hey, it's you! Hi! Bonjour!"

She slowed to a halt and turned to face him, almost laughing at seeing him again. His face lit up in a grin as he jogged in place. "Bonjour," she breathed, smiling politely and putting her hands on her waist.

"We keep meeting like this."

She nodded.

"Wait, you remember me, right? I look all sporty right now, I know. I don't know if that changes anything."

She barely bit back a snort at that. "Yeah, I remember you," she said, and then she turned and jogged away from him, doing her best not to laugh as she waited for him to catch on.

"Wh—Hey! You know English!" He galloped after her as she grinned and kept running along the shoreline. "Did you know English this whole time?"

"Yep."

"Of course you did," he panted. "I don't know how you'd learn it in fifteen hours. That'd be…Wait, you're American!"

"Yep," she laughed, sending him a mischievous grin that showed her teeth.

"You were totally playing me! That's not even cool!"

She simply laughed again, and was surprised when his look of shock melted into pure and unfiltered amusement. He shook his head and laughed with her. "Wooow, okay," he panted as he jogged next to her. "I see how it is."

"Sorry."

"No, you're not. Don't even say you are when you're most definitely _not_ ," he said, and she detected not even a trace of flirtation. Just a bit of amusement at his own expense. It was kind of refreshing. And then he slowed a little to fall behind her. "Do you—Is it okay if I run with you? Can I join you?"

She stopped and turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

The amusement in his face fell, but he still had a small smile on his lips. He had a kind face. Candid. And a little exhausted at the moment as he gripped at his side as though he had a cramp. "You can say no!" he rushed on, thrusting his hand out reassuringly. "It's okay! You say no, and I'll go that way," he reassured, flicking his thumb over his shoulder. "And you won't see me again."

"Not too sure about that," she said, giving him a flirtatious smirk. "Can't seem to get away from you."

He chuckled breathlessly. "I can't help that you're stalking me."

"Oh, _I'm_ stalking _you_. That makes sense." She continued running.

"I'm just kidding!" he called after her, staying rooted to his spot. "Wait! You never answered yes or no! Can I run with you?"

"I don't know," she said, turning and jogging backwards with a shrug. "Can you keep up?"

He grinned and hurried after her. "Yeah, I can!"

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, turning to face forward as he fell in beside her.

"No." That made her laugh. "But I'm sure as hell gonna try."

"I'll give you some advice. It's easier to run with your mouth closed."

"Oooohh! Slap in the face! Ouch! Okay. Alright, fine. I get it. No talking."

She laughed again, rocking forward a little and even having a hard time catching her breath.

They ran in silence for a few minutes then, but she saw in her peripheral that he kept sneaking glances at her. His gaze seemed concentrated to her face, which was definitely new. She was so used to the look the Frenchman had given her the day before, eyes sliding down her long legs and over her breasts. And her ass if she was facing away from them.

She had learned not to get quite so angry, since it helped her in her work every so often, but being looked at like she was a piece of meat in a butcher shop would never have any appeal. She refused to get used to it.

He didn't seem like he was checking her out, though. It was almost as though he were deciding whether or not he should talk to her, like he had a question and was dwelling on whether it would annoy her or not if he asked.

It struck her as odd. Did most people think this much before they spoke? Were people actually that thoughtful? It was a little sweet, she decided.

When he finally spoke up, it was a relief.

"Do you always jog in the mornings?"

"Why? You gonna come out here to find me every morning? I promise you won't be able to keep up."

"Whoa, whoa!" He held up his hands defensively, that grin on his face, and she was struck by how nice his teeth were. _His teeth? What the hell?_ "Getting cocky there, aren't we? I mean, I don't doubt you could run circles around me with your eyes closed, but simmer down."

She laughed. "Do you jog a lot?"

"Not as often as I should. But with that rain last night, it seemed so crisp out here, you know? I love the morning after it rains."

"Me, too," she admitted.

"Everything's just so…" He seemed to struggle for the right word.

"Fresh?"

He chuckled. "Not only can you run circles around me, you're talking circles around me, too. And this time we're actually speaking the same language. How sad am I?"

"I think you're kinda cute, actually." She wasn't sure what prompted her to say that. Maybe she wanted to see how he reacted. But the fact of the matter was that she meant it. He was kind of cute.

And she wasn't disappointed in his reaction. The amusement gave way to a blank look and he slowed to a halt, staring after her as she kept running. She bit her lip to keep from laughing as she heard him scramble after her to catch up again. "Wait, really? Really? Or are you teasing me again?"

"Why can't it be both?" she shrugged.

"I don't know, but I'm starting to wonder if I actually woke up this morning, or if I'm still in bed and this is some sort of dream."

It was corny, but the way he said it, almost as though he was talking to himself, was so sincere. And it was charming in the most disarming way. She giggled for the first time in a _really_ long time…if ever. A real giggle. "You're not dreaming. Or if you are, so am I."

"Then I'm not dreaming. Because you're _definitely_ not dreaming. Women like you proooobably don't dream about guys like me." He grinned again.

"My brain isn't capable of thinking up someone like you," she said.

He did a double take. "Was that a compliment? 'Cause I can't tell."

She laughed again, having to slow down to walk in order to catch her breath. "Well, it was supposed to be, yeah," she panted.

"Oh, good. Well, thanks." He ran a little further along, and then stopped and turned, jogging in place. "Ha! You stopped and I'm still going. How's that for—Oh, this is the end, isn't it?" He stopped and sagged a little. "I feel sheepish."

Laughter had never come quite so easily to the assassin as it had in the 15 minutes of running with this man. She moved past him to the wooden stairs leading up to the path that weaved around to her hotel, and she started up the steps.

Realizing he still hadn't moved yet, she turned on the fourth step and made a face. "Are you coming?"

His smile was slow, building on his face in stages. Warmth spread through her chest and she smiled back, watching as he made to join her.

They walked slowly, and for once he was quiet, still holding his sides as though he was in pain. She hadn't gotten as much of a work out as she usually got when she jogged alone. He'd definitely slowed her down quite a bit. But she found herself not caring even a little.

"I could really go for about a gallon of water right about now," he admitted as they wandered up the path.

"Yeah, so could I."

"Are, uh…Is this your hotel? Sorry, I don't mean to assume you're a tourist. Do you live in Nice?"

"No, no. Though it'd be nice."

"Ha! Good one." She threw him an unsure look. "Nice to live in Nice. Nice. Nice. They're spelled the same but—You know what? I'll stop while I'm ahead."

She let out a soft huff of amusement. "This is my hotel, yeah."

"Fancy that! It's mine, too."

"What're the odds?"

He nodded quietly, seeming to have finally gotten his breath back from the jog. "Do you want to grab a quick coffee? I was gonna just get it from the bar that's right through there," he said, gesturing at the door behind the pool. "Like…a shot of coffee or something. Real quick. To get me through my shower."

She lifted her shirt a little to wipe at her face and nodded. "Yeah. I could go for a quick coffee. And um…a gallon of water."

He chuckled and gestured for her to lead the way.

A few minutes later, they stood at the bar, two small cups of espresso in front of them.

"You know, I never got to properly thank you for saving me from that surfer guy yesterday."

She smiled at him over the rim of her cup and then took a slow sip, licking her upper lip after. "You thanked me."

"Yeah, but not _properly_."

That made her raise an eyebrow a little flirtatiously at him. "And what's a _proper_ thank you, then?"

He seemed flummoxed for a moment, and then he looked down at the bar and let out a quick breath. "I don't…really know…what I meant by that, actually."

She smiled at him as she felt something stirring in her chest. Something foreign. Something she trusted even though it was foreign. "Well, maybe you shouldn't say things when you don't know what you mean."

His eyes widened as he looked at her and she couldn't keep a straight face for very long, finally cracking a grin and laughing.

He laughed as well. "Daaaang!"

"I'm sorry," she chuckled, crossing her arms. "I just really like watching your reactions. I'll stop messing with you."

His smile was bright, even as he blushed a little. "I don't really mind it, weirdly."

"Yeah, that is weird."

They laughed together again, and he shook his head, throwing the rest of the espresso shot back before setting down the cup again and licking his lips.

"Well," she said, sending a bit of an awkward silence beginning to slip in and wanting to avoid that if at all possible. "I'm going to head up to my room. Shower."

"Oh." He stood up straight and pulled nervously on the hem of his shirt. "A shower sounds great. I'll probably do that. I mean, definitely. I take showers. They're important." He pressed his lips together and shut his eyes in mortification. When he opened them again, she saw him flash her self-deprecating, crooked smile…It was almost like he was sharing an inside joke with her. It made her feel…strangely special.

In spite of that, she knew she was watching him suffer from a broken filter, and she wanted nothing more than to help him out. The only problem was that she didn't really know how. "Thanks for the run. I—Oh, crap," she breathed, feeling like an idiot as she realized she had no money.

"What is it? You okay? Cramp or something?"

She shook her head. "No, I just…I didn't have any room to stash money," she said, gesturing to her outfit. "I was just planning on running and heading back so I've only got my keycard."

"Oh. Don't worry about it. I've got the coffee. It's the least I can do for slowing down your run."

She tried to argue and he lowered his chin to look at her flatly. "Come on. I know you had to run at a way slower pace for me to keep up with you, and even then, I was fighting the worst cramp ever pretty much the whole time we were running. You're a beast." His eyes widened and he turned to face her fully. "You're not a beast. I didn't mean that—I just meant that you're fit. You're really fit. I feel about as foolish as I probably look right now. It's just that I didn't really expect to run into a beautiful woman when I went out for a jog this morning."

Doing her best to pretend she didn't notice the way he was spiraling right in front of her eyes, she focused on the last part, because he legitimately just made her blush. A sincere blush. Because she could tell his words were sincere. His observation about her beauty completely honest in its innocence. "Thank you for that."

"Sure, yeah, I've got a few euros in my pocket. I can handle a couple coffees no problem."

"No, I—" She let out a short giggle. "I meant the beautiful woman part, but thank you for that, too."

"Oh. You're welcome. Annnd you're welcome. All true. I am buying our coffees. And you are beautiful." He chuckled and grabbed the check, writing his room number on it, before passing it back with some money.

Because she was trained as a spy, she took a surreptitious look at the numbers he scrawled down, logged it in the back of her mind, and pretended it was just her training kicking in. It wasn't that she was beginning to form a definite interest in this guy. That'd be a bit stalkerish, after all. It wasn't like she had any reason to go to his room.

"I'll be seeing you, then," she said with a quiet smile.

She swept around him and started for the doorway that would eventually lead into the lobby. But then her feet slowed of their own volition and she felt like maybe this wasn't the best idea, but then again…maybe it was…

She turned back to him and tilted her head, noticing that he looked a little moony as he watched her leave. It was gratifying. "You know what? Do you have any plans tonight?"

He made a soft choking sound, trying to disguise it as clearing his throat, and he shook his head. "Nope."

"How about dinner? On me."

"Yeah!" he exclaimed immediately, quite nearly cutting her off in his enthusiasm. And then he pulled back a little. "Yes. I'd like that."

"Yeah?" A part of her told her to act shy. He probably liked shy girls, the spy voice in her whispered. But she didn't want to be shy. She didn't want to be anything she wasn't. Not with him. Going out on a limb, she grinned with confidence. "Meet in the lobby at six thirty?"

"Okay."

She almost left but then she realized she still didn't know his name, but she knew his room number. It just felt…wrong. "I'm Sarah, by the way."

"Sarah," he repeated. "Nice to meet you, Sarah."

When he didn't say anything else for a few awkward seconds, she leaned in a bit. "And?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah! I'm sorry. Chuck. I'm Chuck."

She wasn't sure what she had expected him to say, but Chuck wasn't it. Maybe something a little more…she didn't know. But Chuck? Never. "I'll see ya later, Chuck."

"You will. Definitely."

She grinned one last time at him and swept out of the bar, a surprising skip in her step as she moved through the lobby towards the staircase. And as she took the stairs two at a time, she wondered how making a date with a random guy (who was capable of some really terrible French, it had to be said) was making her feel like she had something really great to look forward to for the first time in a really long time.

She forced the idea that it was just that he'd be a good distraction during her "time off"…and she ignored the voice in her head that wondered what made Chuck a better distraction than the hot French surfer from the day before.

* * *

Now you hopefully get more of a feel for the direction this is going in. Please let me know how you feel about it so far! Thanks so much for reading!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	3. Dancing in the Moonlight

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** I really wasn't expecting so many reviews, let alone all of the positivity. Thank you very much to all of you. I am grateful to have readers after the show's been off the air for a few years now. :-)

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own CHUCK. I don't make money writing CHUCK fan fiction.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: _Dancing in the Moonlight_**

There wasn't much that could surpass a restaurant pressed up against the beach as the sun slid lower and lower in the sky over the sparkling water of the Mediterranean. It was definitely romantic and she had to give Chuck props for managing to finagle them a table outside where they could see the sun setting as they ate.

"Okay, so here's an important question. Really important," Chuck was saying, and she looked up from her menu to raise an eyebrow in question. There was a dramatic pause, and then…

"Are you good at choosing wine? Because I'm really terrible at it. Like, I'm embarrassingly clueless when it comes to wine."

She hummed out a little giggle through her nose. "Why's that? You don't like it or…?"

"It's not that. I love wine. I just never drank it much in college because it's more expensive than beer. I grew a taste for it after college, but I still know absolutely nothing."

"Got it. So I go to you if I ever need to know about beer?"

"If we're talking beer, I'm your man," he confirmed, puffing his chest out and straightening the lapel of his jacket.

Sarah grinned at him, again taking the time to let her eyes run over him. She had already checked him out before when they met in the lobby of their hotel and she had really enjoyed what she'd seen. It wasn't exactly a surprise that Chuck looked good in a suit. He had the perfect build for a slim cut suit with his broad shoulders, thin waist, and those long limbs. But he had looked better than she'd been prepared for, and it was startling that she'd been at a loss for words for a good three seconds.

Luckily he'd been at as much of a loss for words as she'd been when he caught sight of her. And he hadn't seemed to notice her own troubles as a result.

It was pretty gratifying that he'd already seen her in a bikini once, which was _far_ more revealing, and she'd made him speechless by throwing on a dress and heels, doing her hair, and lightly applying some makeup.

"Well, I was thinking of getting the filet mignon, and nothing's better than syrah with steak."

"Perfect. Done. Let's get a bottle of that."

"Are you getting steak?"

"I am now."

She leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "Not a very picky eater, are you?"

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and shook his head. "Not even a little bit." She saw that he was picking at the tablecloth a little nervously and she wondered how often he'd found himself in a situation like this—being asked out on a date by a woman. She wasn't overly modest when it came to her looks, at least not to herself. She knew she was generally seen as very beautiful. It was a part of her training; figuring out how to use her looks to her greatest advantage. Was Chuck nervous because he'd been asked out? Or was it because she was beauitful?

She didn't want to make assumptions about him. And she wondered if he dated all that much back home, wherever he lived in the states. If he didn't, he either avoided it like the plague, or the women there were, frankly, stupid.

Because she'd only just met him and she could already list a handful of things that made him a good catch. He was handsome. Not in a way that knocked a girl onto her ass when he came into a room. It crept up on her when she least expected it to. Maybe it was all the smiling he was doing. He also had appealing facial structure, and very expressive eyes. And then there was his sense of humor. She laughed more in this one day than she had in the rest of her lifetime combined, and it wasn't as though she'd spent the entire day with him. Not to mention the fact that he was in Nice on holiday, so he had to make a pretty good income, right? This wasn't a cheap trip by any means.

A guy like this, he probably had a woman somewhere. But no ring meant no wife. She silently scoffed at that thought. Like she hadn't seen men taking off their wedding rings when they were away from their wives before.

Chuck didn't seem like the type, though. And who was she to say what type he was when she knew nothing about him? Spying 101 said never trust anyone at first glance. She'd only really gotten a first glance of this guy.

"Well, your mother taught you well, then," she said, catching the eye of the waiter over Chuck's shoulder. She almost missed the way Chuck swallowed and diverted his eyes to the tablecloth before the waiter arrived at their table. And she wondered if there was a story there.

Instead of pursuing the topic, she ordered their bottle of wine and dinners, allowing the waiter to bow, take their menus, and leave before turning back to her date. "I'm sorry for taking control like that. I thought it would get him out of here faster is all," she said. "I'm, uh, admittedly hungry."

"No! I like a woman who takes control." He winced. "Welp. That sounds better in movies." She cracked up, sincerely taken aback by his candidness and sincerity. He merely sent her his self-deprecating half smile and shook his head. "Sorry," he chuckled. "But, uh…My French leaves much to be desired, so I'd not mind at all if you handled everything that involved talking to the natives tonight."

She'd since stopped laughing, but Sarah couldn't wipe the grin off her face if she tried. "It's a deal. Though, you'd learn more French if you practiced it."

"I'll probably be murdered before I get that far, for butchering their language past all recognition."

"You're not _that_ bad."

"Maybe not," he allowed, "but you on the other hand. You speak as though you were born and raised here. Were you born here? Or do you just come here often?"

Their wine showed up just then, the waiter expertly pouring it into each glass before setting the bottle in the middle of the table, bowing, and dashing off again.

"I just know the language. I was born in the U.S. And I live there, too."

"Wow. Well your French is seriously impressive. I think. It sounds impressive to me. Do you know any other languages?"

"Mhm." He lowered his chin and gestured for her to continue. She shrugged, figuring there wasn't any harm in impressing her date with the truth. "I mean, there's Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, German, Polish, Swedish, a bit of Portuguese, and some Russian. I picked up basic Thai while I was there a few years ago, but I've probably forgotten it now."

As she spoke, he lifted his fingers to count, and by the end, he'd run out of fingers. "Eleven languages? You can speak eleven languages? Oh my God. You're like Google Translate but a person."

She laughed again, rocking forward. "Online translators are such crap."

"That's true. I tried to pass Spanish at Stanford using an online translator. Did not work out well for me."

Sarah almost asked about it, but then she did a mental double take on a part of his comment. "Wait, you went to Stanford?"

There was a moment where she saw him blush, picking at the tablecloth in a bashful manner this time, but then he seemed to collect himself quickly and meet her questioning gaze. "Yep. Three years. Well…and a half. I ended up taking some summer school courses here and there."

"And you graduated early. You weren't messin' around, were you?" She couldn't help but be impressed. A few of her fellow field agents had been recruited from Stanford, but most of the Stanford recruits ended up as analysts or scientists. And those she _had_ met seemed to have their heads up their asses.

Chuck, on the other hand, seemed to have his head exactly where it was supposed to be.

"I didn't have the time to mess around, in all honesty. Pfft, would've gotten my ass kicked out of there in no time."

She was intrigued, so she leaned in, resting her chin on her hand and lifting her glass to her lips to sip the wine. "Why's that?" she asked after running her tongue over her lips.

"Oh, I uh…" He hesitated and she tilted her head reassuringly. She had experience putting marks at ease. So that they'd let their guard down, trust her, talk to her, confide in her. And while she didn't want to think of Chuck as a mark, per se, her attempt to put him at ease seemed to do the trick as he sighed and leaned in a little.

"I wasn't like most of the other students there. A lot of them had parents who were important alumni, parents who donated thousands of dollars to the university. Millionaires with lots of money to offer Stanford. You know." She nodded. "Those people messed up and they had a safety net of sorts. If they kicked a loaded student out, that'd be a lot of money Stanford might miss out on. Just good business, right?" He shrugged. "Annnd then there was me." He cleared his throat, his smile sweet, his voice quiet. "I didn't have anything to offer aside from my brain. See, they gave me a scholarship. Almost a full ride, actually. But that meant I had to be on task. I couldn't mess up. They would probably _make_ money if I got kicked out. So I had to prove myself more than students from rich families did, you know? They took a risk with me and I had to make it worth it for them. Because money was tight, I did my best to make sure I got outta there a little early."

Sarah blinked slowly and smiled, her features soft and her heart hovering between being light and being heavy. It felt weird. "Impressive."

He blushed bright red and she laughed at him.

"So what did you major in? At _Stanford_?"

Just then their food was set in front of them, their filet mignons glimmering in the setting sunlight with crisp cooked asparagus piled beside it along with some glazed carrots. The cut of meat wasn't very large, and neither were the portions of vegetables, but perhaps that just meant there was room for dessert. Honestly, you couldn't expect anything different. Small portions, hefty prices. Especially at a well-known outdoor restaurant in Nice, right on the Riviera. At least she knew the food would be delectable.

"Cheers," Chuck said suddenly, lifting his half empty wine glass.

She lifted her own and clinked it to his. "Cheers."

She watched him over her rim as he took a long gulp of the wine. Everything he did was so unstudied. All the way down to shaking his napkin out of its elegant folded shape and smoothing it on his lap. He was an open book, which was great, because she found she was more than interested in knowing a lot more about him. It was dangerous, but she lived her entire life courting danger. At least this danger might have some sort of reward at the end. She was interested in finding out what that was, at the very least.

"So…your major? What'd you study?"

"Oh! Right! My major. You asked my major. Computer engineering." She must have made a certain face because he suddenly looked a little sheepish. "I know, I know. Probably not something I should reveal on a first date."

"What? Why?" She was genuinely curious.

"I'm not sure I wanna say."

Sarah frowned and put a cut of meat in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Why not?" she asked, legitimately not understanding.

"I guess I'm what you might call a—a computer geek. I like messing around with electronics. Old stuff, new stuff. I just like it. Always have."

"So is that what you do now, then? You mess around with computers?"

That made him laugh. He sliced off a large piece of his filet and shoved it in his mouth, taking another gulp of wine as he chewed and swallowed his food. She had never seen anyone gulp wine before. He certainly didn't shy away from enjoying things.

And even now, the sound he made as he ate his filet was just as enjoyable for her as his steak seemed to be enjoyable for him.

 _Down, assassin._

"That's kinda what I do, yeah. And a few more of my cool points are about to go down the drain right now, but I'm more of a developer slash programmer type guy. I run a company that produces video games, software, stuff like that."

She felt her eyes pop a little. "You run your own company?"

He stalled with the fork half raised to his mouth. "Um. Yes. I do."

"You keep impressing me."

"Really? It's not a big company. I mean, it's definitely not super well-known. We've got some growth to do and I'd like to reach out to a larger demographic, you know? Women in particular. I find that the gaming industry in general doesn't have enough three-dimensional women characters. And there are a lot of girls—women even—who game just as much as guys do. But they're forced to play as characters that are dudes who tend not to be very relatable, you know? So that's what I've been working on lately. Trying to create a few games that…really… I'm so sorry. I go on and on sometimes. I just…" He made a race car sound effect and thrust his hand out in front of him. "You gotta stop me when I start running my mouth like that. I'm a rambler."

She smiled quietly. "I didn't _want_ to stop you. You don't meet that many people who actually enjoy their work." Like how she was enjoying her own work less and less with each mission. Just being good at her job felt like it wasn't enough anymore. "And it's interesting," she continued. "I actually didn't know there were all that many women who played video games."

He gave her a shocked look and she felt a little sheepish. It wasn't like being an assassin kept her connected to the world at large. Why would she know _anything_ about video games? Except that they existed and there were people out there who played them. Admittedly, she'd always pictured smelly guys with bloodshot eyes and chip breath.

"There are a lot of female gamers. Some of the male programmers are jack asses about it and try to ignore just how many women there are. Nobody I would hire, obviously. Like enjoying a good video game is exclusive to the male population or something."

Sarah bit her cheek to keep from smiling at him as she saw how huffy he was getting. This was his career he was talking about, and it would be rude to laugh, but he made for a pretty attractive proponent for women. It was more than simply attractive, it was downright sexy.

"Basically," he broke into her thoughts, "I'm not as successful as I wanted to be at this point. I make a living. I'm successful enough. We're not Konami by any stretch of the imagination. But people buy my games and play them. And like them. I think." His smile made her feel…strange, so she dug into her filet with more fervor in an attempt to ignore the feeling. Maybe a little iron in her system was what she needed. Maybe she was just iron deficient. That was it.

"Sounds pretty cool."

"Does it?" he asked in a flat voice and she laughed. "Okay, admittedly, I know absolutely nothing about video games, and I don't think I've ever even played any."

"Not ever?"

"Never. I've played Pac-Man, but that was when I was a kid and that's more of an arcade game, right?"

"Well, you know _something_. You know there's a difference between video games and arcade games."

"Are you making fun of me?" Her jaw dropped, even as her eyes sparkled flirtatiously. Even then, he looked sincerely troubled that he'd offended her as he sat up a little.

"No! Not at all. I'm pretty sure I'm the one who would normally be made fun of in this situation." He pretended to push glasses up his nose. "Am I right?"

That made her laugh. "I was just teasing you, Chuck. I'm not offended. I can't change my lack of gamerness whether it makes me uncool or not."

"Trust me. I am a professional at…gamerness…" She winked, causing him to let her have a slow smile as he continued. "And I can tell you outright that you are way cooler than I am. By default. _Because_ you are not a gamer."

Dismissing the way her dress felt a bit tighter around her chest at seeing him smile like that, she skewered a carrot and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"So what about you? You here on business?"

For a moment, she felt like her chair had slipped out from under her and she was falling. How unbelievably stupid could she be? As much as she'd been anticipating this date, she hadn't come up with a cover story as to why she was here, or what she did for her career. Saying "I'm paid by your government to kill bad guys" wouldn't go over too well on the first date.

She was woefully unprepared.

And this was completely out of character. She was one of the best spies in the CIA. And absolutely the most effective killer they had. And yet, she hadn't come up with a backstory. What the hell was wrong with her?

"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No! No, it's not that." She smiled at him to cover up the slight panic, waving her hand in front of her. "It's just sort of complicated to explain. I have to think about it, you know? My work involves a lot of different things." She bit her lip, watching as he leaned forward in interest. He wanted to know about her and for some reason, that made her insides feel a little…squirmy. If only the truth wasn't so horrific to a regular person like Chuck. "It's actually, um…" She wracked her brain for a second and then went for it. "Translations."

"Translations?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." She felt foolish. Only because she had inadvertently let him in on something incredibly personal—not that he would know that.

She had always loved languages. She loved listening to them, loved speaking them. She loved studying them. She loved how it could personify a nation or a culture, or how they were all so beautiful in their own way. If she had gone to college for herself, studied what _she_ wanted to study, maybe she would have become a translator or something somewhere. If she hadn't been pulled into the CIA. In a lot of ways, she did work as a translator. She used her knowledge of languages nearly every day—but not in the way she'd dreamed when she was a little girl watching the hotel room's TV in different countries while her dad pulled his cons.

"So you sit in those rooms, you know, with the headphones, and just translate speeches for people and stuff like that? Like at UN meetings?"

"Well, I'm not…I mean, sure. Yes. Sometimes. Um…lots of traveling, though."

His eyes lit up. "Wow. That's really awesome. So the whole knowing eleven languages thing really pays off in your line of work, huh?"

"It can, yeah. I'm always practicing, though." That was true, too. But lately she hadn't had the urge or the time. The drive to do much more than her job had completely dried up lately. She hadn't had the willpower.

It wasn't escaping her notice that she had subconsciously chosen to give Chuck the persona that she would have wanted for herself if her life had turned out differently. If she hadn't been recruited right after high school.

Not that she would have gone to college if Graham hadn't showed up. College meant having money. It meant having promise and prospects. It meant not having the threat of a criminal record hovering over your head, or having a con artist father who got you into trouble too many times to count. It meant having a lot of things she never would have had if she hadn't gone into the CIA.

She didn't regret choosing that path. Because every other path would have led to her destruction. Eventually. The CIA had given her the Farm, where she was trained, taught to survive in any circumstances, beat the odds…win every time.

But if she had gone to college, she would have majored in languages. Or literature. Or both at the same time. And she would have worked in an embassy, and traveled across the world, studying even more languages and cultures, history, maybe even art and architecture.

For some reason, the lie made her feel worse, and even then, the way he was smiling at her and making her feel at ease conflicted directly with the awful feeling of lying to his face.

She'd never felt guilt about lying before. Lying was the language she knew best, even better than English, probably.

"That's so impressive. I cannot language. Not even a little. Just English. And even then, I sometimes wonder if I've even got that one down." She was amused by his purposeful misuse of language as a verb instead of the noun that it was. He was playful and she wasn't used to that. "I was always the one saying 'Ho-La. Como es-toss?' and failing all the quizzes." He shook his head. "I couldn't art, either. I tended to draw stick figure dudes hanging out of stick helicopters." She cracked up. "I shit you not," he chuckled. "That is the extent of my art abilities."

"I highly doubt that, Chuck."

"No, I'm serious. I'm so bad."

"But what you do…it's a form of art, isn't it? It's sort of a language, too, in a lot of ways." She speared an asparagus and bit the end off daintily. "You're a computer guru. You make video games. I mean, so much art and math goes into that. I think math could be considered a language. For smart guys like you, at least."

"I've got people who work for me, though. I do the storyboards and the gameplay and programming and all of that—you know, me and my colleagues—and then I give the artists a concept and see what they come up with…Then I choose what goes best with my ideas and bam. We go and we don't stop 'til we've got a game."

"Fine. So you don't do the art, but I still think what you do _is_ art. Just a different kind."

He smiled. "I'll let you have that. Only because I'm a nice guy and I tend not to be very competitive. I was born that way."

She laughed again, but then he glanced off to the side and his pleased smile melted into a momentary look of horror. Just like that, he pushed his spoon off of the table so that it fell to the floor with a clang. "Oh, my spoon! I better go ahead and get that!"

Chuck ducked beneath the tablecloth, leaving Sarah to stare across the table in confusion. He didn't come up after five seconds, after ten, after fifteen. She cleared her throat daintily and looked around the restaurant.

Finally, she tentatively leaned forward to peek at him. His head was buried under the table cloth, but he was still sitting on the chair. And he was definitely not moving to pick up any spoon.

"Chuck?"

"Yep?"

"Uh. Is…everything okay? Are you okay?"

"Oh, sure. I'm fine."

"You sort of look like an ostrich is all. Did you lose the spoon or…?"

"Um. Nope. No, I've got it."

"Uh. Ooookay."

She heard him sigh heavily and she ignored the voice in her head telling her she was crazy for playing along with this foolishness. But she was curious, and amused, too…but mostly curious. If she'd still had any doubt about him not being a spy or enemy agent, she would lay it to rest now. She ducked under the tablecloth to look at him. "Hi."

"Hey!" His eyes bugged out. "I'm so sorry."

"What are you doing under here?"

He squinted his eyes sheepishly. "Did you happen to see the couple standing at the entrance to the restaurant?"

She wracked her brain. "Um…no, I didn't."

"He has sandy blond hair. Tall. Super handsome and, uh…built like an Ancient Greek Olympian? And she's got dark brown hair, tall, very pretty. Smiley. Wearing a green sundress."

She pulled her head out from under the tablecloth and peeked over her shoulder. A couple that fit his description to a tee stood at the entrance to the restaurant, speaking to to the hostess there.

She ducked back down beneath the tablecloth. "Okay."

"They're still there?"

"Yeah."

"Damn it."

She moved to peek at them again. "Do you know them?" she asked, before diving back under.

He winced, licking his lips, his eyes darting back and forth. And then he sighed. "I was on the ferry to Calvi with them the other day. We got to chatting, you know. Super nice people. Really nice. But, um…not very attuned to personal bubbles."

"Ohhh, you're avoiding them because they're annoying?"

Chuck winced again. "That makes me sound like a huge jerk, but—"

"No, no. I get it. There are some people who are kind of nosy and maybe a little too friendly."

"Exactly. Are, um, are they still there?"

She peeked over her shoulder again, casting her eyes towards the entrance first, and then sitting up straight to look around the restaurant in case they were seated. She leaned down and pulled the tablecloth up so that he could see her face. "They're gone."

Relief spilled over his features and he sat up normally again. She joined him and leaned her elbows on the table, watching as he fixed his curly hair as best he could.

"Thank you for that. I really appreciate it. You probably think I'm nuts, or really mean. " She shook her head as he continued. "I just knew that if they saw me, they would rush over here, pull up two chairs, and hang out with us for the rest of the night. I couldn't lose 'em once I got to Calvi. Which was totally fine then. But right now, I'd sort of like to just, um, hang out with you. Just you. You know?"

The weirdness of the last few minutes was more amusing than anything else, but now it felt kind of…good. She couldn't describe it any other way. It felt good to know that he acted like a fool because he wanted to be with just her for the rest of the night.

And he'd seemed to have no qualms about admitting it to her.

"No, I-I get it," she finally answered. "It's okay."

And as she realized that they'd finished the bottle of wine, she pulled her lips to the side pensively. "Do you want to get out of here, maybe? In case your nosey friends decide to come back?"

He sighed in relief, a wide smile sweeping over his features. "That's a great idea."

"Great. I'm just going to go pay the bill…" She saw his eyes widen, opening his mouth to interrupt, but she talked over him. "No. I'm paying for dinner, Chuck. I asked _you_ out, remember?"

"But this is expensive. I don't want you to have to—"

"You can cover the bill at the next place."

He made a low growling noise and glared teasingly, relenting. "Fine, then. I've got the next one."

"Deal. I'll be right back."

Grabbing her purse, she stood up and smiled at him, setting a hand on his shoulder as she swept past to go pay the bill. It didn't take long, and she found herself casting a few candid glances at her date as he waited.

He cut quite the figure sitting there in that rather too small chair, his back to her. And he looked a little like he belonged here in Nice. With those dark curls being pushed around his head a little by the Riviera breeze. The dark suit he wore without a tie, adding to the appealing mix between smart and casual. He also had a naturally tan hue to his skin. She wondered if he lived in a sunny state and that was where he got his tan. Or maybe he'd just been here long enough that he'd developed that skin tone.

When she finally made her way back, he sensed her approaching and stood up from the table, smiling down at her warmly. "So where to?"

We'd apparently unanimously agreed to continue the date from here.

"I think I might have a place. If you like good coffee. It's a bit of a walk unless you want to take—"

"A walk sounds perfect. Can we stroll along the boardwalk?"

"Absolutely." Sarah took his arm and led him out of the covered eating area to walk towards the steps that led down onto the boardwalk.

She resisted the urge to slide both her arms around his right one as they stepped onto the boardwalk and began strolling. Instead she folded her arms under her chest and clutched her own biceps in her hands.

"So where are you from?" she asked finally, after a few comfortable moments of quiet between them as they looked out towards the red setting sun. It was lowering further and further behind the Mediterranean, its descent quick.

"Where do I hail from?" he drawled, tilting his head and squinting over her head at the sun. "Los Angeles."

That made a lot of sense.

"Wow. A California boy, huh?"

"Born and bred."

She nodded. "It's a nice area."

"Have you been?"

"A few times, yeah." _Killed a man there once. Almost got walked in on by the bodyguard when I was cleaning up._

"Cool. Well, how about you? From whence do you come?"

She smirked, even as she wracked her brain for an answer. "D.C.," she finally answered. She had a small apartment there. She rarely saw the inside of it, but it was there. Waiting for her. In between assignments. A quick shot to Langley.

"Oh, wow. D.C. is nice. I went on a high school trip to D.C. Saw all the monuments. Stood outside of the White House gate and looked at it for a few minutes. Waved at the president." He lifted a hand and waved out at the ocean, causing Sarah to giggle.

"Those things are all pretty nice, yeah." She couldn't remember the last time she'd been to any of the monuments, unless one of her peers was making a drop there for her to pick-up. And when that happened, she was too focused on the job to take in her surroundings.

"You probably get tired of the monuments a little though, huh? Living there, I mean. Seeing it every day…"

"I never really notice. Do you get tired of the Hollywood sign?" She raised her eyebrows at him in curiosity.

"No," he chuckled. "But I don't see it as often as all that. And it's kinda just…home." His smile was soft and warm and she unconsciously squeezed her arms a little tighter.

"That's nice."

"Yeah?"

She looked up at him. "Yeah."

They walked for another half hour along the boardwalk, pausing their walk and light conversation to watch the sunset for a bit until it slipped all the way behind the water. She pulled him away from the rail and sea, and up towards the little shops and eateries.

Keeping hold of his arm this time, Sarah led him about a block inland to a pleasant bistro that smelled of coffee beans and hazelnut. And as they ordered their coffee, Chuck surprised her by ordering a raspberry brûlée AND a crêpe filled with cream and strawberries. "Figure we can pick at both," he said as he put his wallet away and they moved to sit at a small table in the corner of the bistro. The lights outside were dazzling and part of her wanted to be out there, breathing the fresh air, watching the people. It was strange how she'd slowly started to care about those things, care about her surroundings.

And then at the same time, a larger part of her liked that she was nestled in here, with the smell of fresh coffee beans and Chuck's company. It was warm and cozy, and the table was small enough that she could lean forward and press her lips against his without moving too much…if she dared.

Did she dare?

"Have you ever tasted a better cup of coffee? It's like the gods ground the beans themselves. Holy hell."

She smiled. "Welcome to France."

"And what a welcome it is." His response was quiet, slow, and there was some deeper meaning beneath the veneer of politeness. A certain glint in his eye. Like he was talking about her instead of just the coffee. Or she was digging too deep, overanalyzing, making a fool of herself.

And when had she ever made a fool of herself with anyone? She tried to push back against the trepidation tingling in her chest.

Instead of letting it show, Sarah merely smiled and began picking at the crêpe. "Is this your first time to France?" she asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence in which they sipped their coffee and munched on the desserts Chuck had bought for them to share.

"No, actually. I went to Paris once. Only for a few days. Business trip. Didn't see nearly as much as I wanted to, that's for sure. Didn't even get to go to any of the museums, or to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Although I did get myself onto the Seine, though. Which was majestic."

"No Eiffel Tower?"

"I stood at the bottom and looked up. Which was still something."

She let out a light, melodic hum of amusement.

He spread his hands and shrugged, and she couldn't help but keep smiling at him. They ate in relative quietude, and Sarah enjoyed it. She'd never truly enjoyed conversing all that much, honestly. Although, Chuck had so far made it pretty enjoyable.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" she finally asked once they cleaned the plates. "I mean, this is nice. And the dessert was great, but…"

"Where d'you have in mind? I've got all night. No curfew." He grinned cheesily.

"Oh, really? No girlfriend waiting for you back at your hotel?"

"Nope." He paused, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully and pursing his lips. "At least I don't think so. That'd be kind of strange, if I went back to find a woman—That's not funny anymore. I went on too long with it."

She giggled. "Maybe. So yes on the someplace new?"

"Yes. Absolutely." He leapt to his feet and came around the small table to reach down and help her up, and then they walked out of the cafe together, down the sidewalk. She knew of a place. She'd seen it a few nights ago after following the sound of uplifting music. As much as she had wanted to wander into the group that night, she'd stayed back in the shadows.

The joy on their faces, that beautiful glow of humanity that emanated from the makeshift dance floor…it wasn't a place for someone like her. Especially not alone. She'd imagined herself slinking into the group and the music stopping and everyone staring at her like she was a zombie or something—something less than alive, something less than human.

But she had a partner this time. And even though she was a little nervous, she felt alive. She felt human.

Grinning, she reached down and grabbed Chuck's hand, hurrying her pace so that he had to skip a little to keep up with her.

"Whoa," he chuckled. "Where are you taking me, anyway?"

"Do you dance?"

His eyes widened in what looked like fear for a moment and she laughed on impulse. "Wow, so that's a no."

"No, no," he rushed reaching out to gently set his hand on the crook of her arm. "I mean, well no. But—I'm not a huge dancer. I don't dance. What I mean to say is…um…"

"Come onnn. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Oh, I can think of sooo many things."

So could she, come to think of it. But she wasn't letting him talk her out of this. "Are you afraid?"

"See, you think you can chicken me into going dancing with you. But that isn't gonna work because I have no shame in saying that I _am_ afraid. I just admitted it. Easily. I'm afraid. You're gonna bring me to this place, and you're gonna see my dancing abilities (or lack thereof), and you're gonna run in the other direction." He pointed off in the direction behind them. "And that's if you still can because I might've already crushed your pretty toes beyond use by then."

Sarah laughed, letting her head tilt to the side. "I promise not to run, no matter how bad you are."

Chuck scoffed. "You say that now."

"Look. Hold on. Wait. Wait a second." She pulled him to a stop and looked up at him through her lashes. "Nobody knows you here. Nobody can judge. Nobody _will_ judge. It'll just be us. Everyone else will be too focused on themselves and their partners. Please, Chuck. I haven't gotten to go dancing in _so long_. And we're in Nice."

She knew she was reaching into her bag of tricks for this, but she really wanted this. She was a little surprised by just how _much_ she wanted it. Dancing wasn't something she typically did for enjoyment. Not with how entrenched she usually was in missions, and with her marks.

He wrinkled his face up and looked at her through narrowed eyes, pressing his lips together. "Do you love dancing?"

She took a deep breath. "I think there's a freedom in it that is very different from anything else. A way of connecting with the things around you…while also being completely disconnected. It makes me feel alive, and human." She didn't mean to let that part out. And she suddenly backtracked a little, because she was letting tonight— _him—_ make her feel like she could say anything.

That was a very bad thing. There were so many wrong things that could come slipping out if she got too comfortable with him.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and saw he was watching her with a certain look that made her feel like he was seeing something inside of her she didn't mean for him to see. It made her uncomfortable.

He smiled slowly and gave her another feeling, then he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You'relovely."

She really had nothing she could say to that outside of looking down at her feet, sincerely shy.

He shook himself a little. "And you _are_ a linguist. With all of your poetic words," he said quickly, as if trying to brush off his little moment of candidness.

"Shut up. Are we dancing or not?" She attempted to hide the smirk that threatened at his teasing, but it didn't work at all. She maybe wasn't trying hard enough, though.

"All you really had to say was that you like dancing. I wouldn't be able to deny you even if I tried."

Her heart kicked a little at her ribcage and she felt so light and airy in that moment. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Let's go dancing." She clapped her hands together once in sincere excitement, absolutely beaming. But then he pointed at her, lowering his chin. "But you promised not to run when you see my piss poor dance moves. Remember?"

"I won't," she promised, feeling…giddy? Was that what that feeling was? Like she might float up into the clouds and never come down. She'd never been _giddy_ before. She'd acted parts, manipulated, lied to make herself seem giddy to get people to do what she wanted, but she'd never actually felt it.

"Then it's a deal." He offered her his hand and she shook it gently, keeping her hand tucked into his for as long as she possibly could without it being awkward. His hand was large and warm, the way it wrapped completely around hers so easily…

Sarah led him the rest of the way, and they spent those ten minutes in relative quiet, enjoying the soft light from the lanterns along the path, the sound of the water lapping at the rocks below them, and the soft sea breeze blowing at their hair, lifting the hem of Sarah's dress and making it flutter gently at her knees.

"So full disclosure," she finally said as they neared the corner around which she'd seen the dancers a few nights before, "I'm not actually sure they're gonna be here."

He pressed his lips together and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure if it was an every night thing, or spur of the moment. I should've mentioned it earlier, but…"

They rounded the corner and heard the soft sound of an accordion, a guitar, a violin, and the soft singing voice of a woman drifting along the Mediterranean night breeze. Sarah grinned and spun to look at him in anticipation. "Still here!"

"What if they weren't?" he chuckled.

"Umm, I don't really know. I guess you'd be off the hook."

He faked a whine as she laughed and elbowed him teasingly. "Come on. Listen, it's slow. You can do that, right?"

"I hope so."

As he shrugged good-naturedly, Sarah wondered if he wasn't just selling himself short. Or maybe he really was that bad at dancing. It was nothing she couldn't fix.

Sarah's natural grace made her a skilled dancer. And if he really couldn't dance, she'd be a patient instructor, she told herself silently.

As they walked down the long wooden pier that was lit with beautiful white lights strewn along the railing, she felt his body tense a little. He _was_ nervous about dancing.

But these people had seemed so polite, letting other couples jump in. She'd watched the other night as one woman took over with a man and showed him a few steps, much to his female partner's delight.

And when Sarah led Chuck onto the large square dock at the end, they were greeted warmly in French and beckoned to join. There were maybe twelve other couples moving around the floor, most of them in their own little romantic world together.

Chuck's feet seemed rooted to the wood beneath them, his eyes a little wide and his shoulders hunched and unsure. So she took his hands, putting his right on her waist and taking his left hand in her right. They were pressed so close together she could almost feel him breathing, his chest shifting against hers.

She began moving them along the floor, their steps slow and precise. The lights strung above them glinted in his eyes in a beautiful way, but she had to stay focused to make sure she wasn't stepped on by him.

She discovered quickly that he wasn't as bad as he'd insisted. He wasn't anything close to as skilled as most of the men she'd danced with before, but he was a quick learner. And she wondered if it was just a matter of women letting him get away with saying "I don't dance", and therefore he never really got any dancing experience.

After some time he started getting into it. She could see it on his face, the way the panic faded and he just swayed back and forth, smiling down at her. There was a thread of pride in the way he moved, a bit of surprise and confidence in his warm eyes.

But when the band started to pick up more of a dark and sexy tango beat, he began to lose his footsteps a little, the pattern escaping him completely. And when he lifted his gaze to the stars above them helplessly, she had to fight to keep from giggling at his expense.

"It's okay. Here. Just follow me. We'll go slow."

She held him even closer, noticing the way he gulped as their bodies pressed together. At least she wasn't the only one. He was just so tall, his arms stronger than they looked, his hands strangely gentle in how they held hers. And he was so endearing, concentrating with a furrowed brow, his tongue poking out between his lips.

"Step right, together. Again. That's it. A little sway. There you go. And then left twice. And just repeat it over and over. Right, right. Good. Left, left. Perfect." Once he picked up the rhythm of the music, he was fine, and he even leaned closer, turning his face into her hair. She turned her face into him as well and let her eyes drift shut.

The minutes passed and the music changed a few times.

Maybe it was the full moon, coupled with the romantic lighting and the music. Or the smell of the ocean, the way Chuck's body was shielding her from the chill of the breeze that picked up way out here on the pier.

She didn't know what it was. Maybe his cologne.

But she felt for the first time since she could remember that things were out of her control. Being wrapped up in his arms, feeling his cheek against her hair, the way he slid his hand from her hip to move around her waist and pull her even closer.

Her toes curled in her shoes, even as she danced.

One thing was for certain. This might be dangerous. And the fact that she didn't care at that moment was even more dangerous.

She willfully ignored that thought and stayed lost in him, memorized this feeling, stored it away for the future. Who knew if anything would ever feel this good again?

The musicians played the last few notes of their song, until it drifted off over the sea breeze and they were standing in the midst of only a few couples now, clapping politely for the band.

Sarah didn't shy away from the look Chuck was giving her as they stopped dancing. Like nothing else around them even existed. Like he'd gotten just as lost in her as she was in him.

This had never happened before. Not to her.

Then he smiled and looked down, lifting his wrist up between them to look at his watch. His eyes bugged out. "Oh my God. It's five minutes to midnight."

Sarah gaped. "You're lying."

"Nope. It's almost midnight."

The band was packing up, chatting as the couples dispersed slowly, gathering their belongings and trudging up the pier and back to the mainland.

She and Chuck had been there for nearly three hours. _Three hours?_

"We've been dancing here for three hours?" she asked out loud.

"That's the way it seems. You know, I don't think I've danced three hours if you took how much I danced the last twenty six years of my life and added it all together." That made her giggle. "I think you've made me a believer."

"Apparently," she agreed, grinning.

They called out their thanks to the band and followed the rest of the stragglers who'd stayed to the end.

As they stepped onto the boardwalk, Chuck turned to face her, slowly walking backwards, his hands shoved in his pockets. "Hotel? Or do you want to go clubbing until three in the morning?"

"I know you're joking, but I'm pretty sure that if we went to a club, we'd end up staying 'til it closed with our track record."

"Ha! Really. What is with that anyways? I mean, what happened?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Magic."

Chuck smiled softly and stopped. "The French Riviera put a spell on us."

"That must be it. Why don't we just head back? It'll take a half hour anyways."

"Unless we run. Ready GO!" He pretended like he was going to take off and Sarah's competitive streak reared its head even though she knew he was teasing.

"Hey!" She grabbed him and held him back as he giggled like a little boy. "I don't race in heels."

That was sort of a lie. She'd run in heels more times than she could count. It was the nature of her work as a CIA agent. As an assassin.

"That's probably a good idea. Although, if you broke your ankle I'd happily carry you home," he said gallantly. The crooked smile on his face was definitely flirtatious, and she dropped her filter.

"Uh huh. And put me right into bed."

She blushed and looked away. _Damn it!_

There'd been a hint of sincere invitation in her tone beneath the teasing.

She was an expert at flirtation, blatant come ons, seduction. She used all of those to get her marks, her targets, right where she wanted them. But this? This was real. Chuck was real. He wasn't a mark or a target. He was a sweet guy who'd just learned how to enjoy dancing. Who, before that, bought her dessert, and even before that hid under the table from people who might ruin the date if they saw him.

But because he was sweet and not quite as socially inept as someone who called himself a nerd should be, Chuck moved onto a different subject, sticking his hands in his pockets as they continued along the boardwalk. However, as they passed under a lamp, she saw that he was blushing. A part of her was satisfied that he hadn't been able to ignore her words completely, even if she was embarrassed by how carelessly she'd said it.

Their conversation flowed easily as they walked back to their hotel. Her cheeks hurt a little from smiling, and she just felt…full. Warm. Like a regular person for the first time since she could remember.

Neither of them had to say a word as they stepped into the elevator and she pressed the button for her floor. Chuck didn't make any kind of move to press the button for his own floor, leaning back against the railing with his hands in his pockets. In the weird lighting of the elevator, he looked almost mysterious, an enigma of a man who was candid, sincere, honest…and totally extraordinary. Unlike anyone she'd ever come across before.

The elevator doors slid open and she smiled at him. Again, no words were exchanged as he followed her out of the elevator and down the hallway. She turned to the right and walked all the way to the end of the hall, glancing out of the window at the expanse of the Mediterranean stretching out into the distance, the lights of the city flickering against the Cote d'Azur. Her smile widened a little as she realized this was the first time she'd really stopped to look at the view out of this window.

"Oh, wow. You get to see this every night?" Chuck asked near her ear, looking out of the window from where he stood behind her.

"Yep." She looked at him over her shoulder, the moonlight shining off of his face—so handsome and struck with a boyish look of wonder. "I do," she breathed quietly.

Sarah had her key in her hand, having already slipped it out of her handbag as they walked down the hall, but she all but forgot what she was supposed to do with it, the fact that they were standing at her door completely leaving her mind. And she turned around, stepping even closer.

Resting her hand on his lapel, gently sliding it lower, tucking it beneath his jacket and feeling his chest beneath the dress shirt he wore, she let everything else slip to the back of her mind. Even though she wore heels, he was still a few inches taller than her, so she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, ever so slowly.

She bumped his nose with hers and his brown eyes softened beneath his furrowed brow.

Agent Sarah Walker, CIA assassin, dropped her walls and let her fears fall at her feet, any and all notion of duty to Langston Graham, to the CIA, following closely behind. And she brushed her lips against his, so softly, pulling back just slightly and looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

If she'd been in a place to think about it, she would've been unsettled by how tentative she was, how much she was fretting over what he wanted; when before she would've just taken without worrying, knowing the power she had over men.

Chuck tilted his head a little, looking at her in wonder…similar to how he'd just been looking at the view outside the window a moment earlier.

His mouth turned up in one corner and he leaned in to kiss her again. There was nothing tentative about it. This was a full-on kiss.

She was almost dizzy from the sensation, and Chuck must have felt it. Because his arms wrapped around her then, cradling her. Even if her legs failed to function, it wouldn't matter. He was now holding her up, holding her _against_ him.

Sarah got her bearings again and slid her arm up and around his neck, tangling her other hand in the lapel of his jacket and tugging him close. His lips were soft but insistent. And he tasted amazing. Like coffee and berries. His body was strong but comfortable at the same time as she pressed herself into his embrace.

She could feel his large hands spread against her back, the one positioned lower sliding to her hip. Sarah actually felt his thumb gently stroke her hip bone over the cloth of her dress and she just barely held back a moan.

The smallest action and she was on the verge of moaning? She didn't know what was happening, but she didn't want to stop it. It was dangerous. The impact he was having on her senses, the way he was making her feel just from having his lips on hers, his arms wrapped around her.

And she wasn't moving from his embrace. She knew she should. She knew she should pull back, put a stop to this, and run. She should exercise caution. This was selfishness. Pure selfishness.

Instead, she just kissed him a little harder.

When she heard him let out a soft growl, Sarah just barely resisted leaping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, and begging him to take her into her room.

 _Slow down, assassin_.

Thank God she needed to breathe; and at the same time she rued the fact that humans required oxygen to live. She pulled back slowly, her lips still pursed, her eyelids fluttering. They were clinging, his jacket twisted in her hand, the fingers of her other hand twisted in his curls at the back of his head.

She pulled back all the way, opening her eyes to look up at him; his eyes were still shut, lips still pursed. He took a deep breath and when his eyes finally opened, they were swirling with exactly what she was feeling at this moment.

Like something had just happened between them, something neither of them really understood.

And then Chuck took a step back, as if trying to break the spell. She could tell that it didn't work for him any more than it worked for her. Even though he was a good foot away, his hands straightening his jacket, she could still feel them against her back. She could still feel his lips moving hotly over hers, his tongue lightly brushing her lips.

His brown eyes flicked down to the carpet beneath their feet and he smiled a little, bending down to pick up the key card she hadn't even realized she'd dropped when they kissed.

She didn't think she'd ever lost focus this much. She'd never allowed herself to.

"Thank you," she breathed as he handed it back to her.

Sarah opened her door and turned back to him, but found he'd taken a small, meaningful step back. She received the message, and it made her smile more sincerely than she thought she'd ever smiled in her life. Even as he put some distance between them, letting her know he wasn't coming inside, she could see in his face how badly he wanted to. The way his gaze flicked over her shoulder, as if allowing himself a quick peek of Heaven, before he settled his brown eyes back on her blue ones.

"Goodnight, Sarah."

She didn't even know what to think about this man standing in front of her, except that she had never met anyone like him. "Goodnight," she answered.

He didn't wink or grin or smirk or anything like that. He just blinked twice and spun on his heel, very obviously forcing himself to walk away. Halfway down the hallway, he turned back, catching her eye as she leaned out of the doorway to watch him. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, his eyes flicking down to his feet, and then back up again. This time he was resolved. And instead of coming back to her, he let out a long breath. "Thanks for the dance lessons."

"Anytime."

And they were both very definitely aware of exactly what was going on. It hung in the air between them like a glorious inside joke. _Now_ he was grinning. He shook his head at himself, let out a comical breath of air that blew a few curls on his forehead, and strolled away.

Sarah waited until he was out of sight, then ducked back into her room, shut the door, and leaned against it.

It was best that she didn't see him again, she knew. He made her feel like a regular girl. And that meant letting her guard down. Letting her guard down was dangerous.

Still, she thought of him while undressing, while climbing into bed, while staring at the ceiling and trying to fall asleep…

There were more important things she should be focusing on. Like her future with the CIA, whether or not she actually wanted to be involved with the agency anymore, what she would do if she _did_ quit. Instead of falling asleep with that on her mind, though, Agent Sarah Walker drifted off with the image of Chuck's handsome face set in deep concentration as he looked down at her feet while she taught him to dance. The way he freaked when he accidentally stepped on her toes just a little. His boyish excitement when he finally did it right. Finally, just before she reached full unconsciousness, she felt his lips on hers, and she spent the rest of the night with a barely visible smile on her face.

* * *

Thank you for reading! More soon!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	4. Castle on the Hill

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** Wow, the hits and reviews keep climbing. Really grateful to all of my readers! Can't believe that a Charah story with an M rating is getting this many people. The site makes it easy to miss M-Rated things, I've noticed. So thanks so much to all of you for continuing to come back! I appreciate it so much!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own CHUCK. I'm not making a cent from writing this story.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: _Castle on the Hill_**

The lobby seemed much less crowded than it had been when Sarah had left earlier to go for her morning jog, so she paused before heading out to the path that led to her own building and turned to go back to the front desk.

Most of her orders hadn't been coming through her cell phone. Instead, Graham left coded messages with the front desk. Of course, he hadn't said even a word to her since she called him about successfully completing the mission she'd come here to do in the first place. It had been three days now and still absolutely nothing.

Even after she'd passed the intel on to another agent, all she'd gotten was a quick note that let her know they'd received it. She didn't really need a "Good work", like she was a school kid in need of validation from her teacher or something. There were no gold stars in the CIA. But there was no update on her status. No other mission was coming in. She was just here in limbo.

"Vacation", they'd said. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like this was a suspension instead of a vacation. And the more she felt herself leaning towards something that, frankly, terrified her.

But in spite of the terror, there was a sense of risk that seemed more positive than anything. It was a risk that felt different than climbing out of a seventh floor window and scaling the wall of a building to the roof with nothing but a single rope to keep her from falling. It felt different than diving out of a plane thousands of feet above earth with nothing but an unchecked parachute on her back.

It was a risk that meant she was a real person. It was the risk of living a real life, how people who weren't assassins for the CIA lived. A wide open future before her. She didn't know anything else but this job. She wouldn't have the big paycheck, or the security of knowing what every single day was going to look like, knowing who she had to report to. She had one goal each day, and that was to survive.

This would be so different.

Nobody was going to be there to tell her what to do.

Even that was scary. No orders, no dossiers to study. No superiors giving her a mission. It was so easy, even if some of it required a great deal of physical effort and mental concentration. She did the job and moved on to the next one. She was good at it. And until recently, she'd avoided dwelling on the repercussions of what she did.

She preferred to keep going, buzzing on to the next job and then the next job, jet setting around the world, escaping from her demons, from making connections, from everything.

And if she didn't have some higher power telling her where to go, what to do, if she wasn't given the option to move through her work and her life like she was a robot, that meant she would have to make her own decisions. She would have to take control of her own life.

Leaving the CIA meant taking a huge risk.

But she couldn't help feeling like it was a necessary risk.

So that she could be human again.

Or maybe she was too far gone. And that was the one thing keeping her from taking the leap. What if she'd done too much? Killed too many? What if she was past humanity now? Too lost in the shadows of the CIA, unable to get back to the light? And even if she could get to it, did she deserve it?

No. She didn't.

And she was selfish to try, after all of the taking she'd done, even as a child before the CIA. She was selfish to reach for something she didn't deserve.

Feeling heavier than she'd felt in at least the last few days, she asked the clerk if there were any messages for her once she reached the desk, hoping Graham had sent her word. Some coded message giving her a next assignment. Anything, really, that meant she was even on Graham's radar.

She forgot about the director of the CIA completely when instead she was informed that a Mr. Bartowski in 807 left a message for her.

She took the note the clerk handed her and read it on the spot.

 _Sarah,_

 _I'll be at Chez Adeline for lunch today, from around noon until 1:30 or so. You are more than welcome to join me if it tickles your fancy._

 _Yours,_

 _Chuck_

"Merci," she said to the clerk, and he responded with a polite smile. Then he exchanged a few pleasantries with the man who came up to the desk next as Sarah moved away.

She'd woken up this morning with a smile for the first time since…

Well, she honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd woken up with a smile. And then it had dimmed again when she realized the thing that had made her smile in the first place had been a one-time situation.

Part of her wished she'd chosen to end her time with him on a particularly different note. To say she was curious about him was an understatement. And that was probably why she decided it was better that they hadn't gone further, that she hadn't invited him in.

But if she had, she'd at least have a little more to remember him by.

Or it would've just made everything that much harder.

Or…

And that waffling back and forth had gone on throughout the first half of her morning jog, too.

She'd ended up feeling like last night was just a bittersweet time in her life that she would think about whenever she was feeling low or something. She would think about the man with the eyes that were more amber than brown. And his dark curly hair. The sound of his laugh, and the sweet adrenaline that went with knowing she'd been the one to make him laugh. The way he'd stared at her feet like his life depended on it while she taught him to dance on the dock. And the way the sparkle in his eyes once he started getting the hang of it made her pulse race in a way that was much different than being chased through the dark streets of Bucharest by henchmen avenging the murder of their leader had.

To say nothing of that kiss. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head as she thought of it again.

But now she held a note from him in her hand as she walked through the lobby to the door, moving along the outdoor path at a good clip to get to her building. A note that had quite a bit in it. He obviously didn't want to make any assumptions that she _would_ show up. So he just casually said she was welcome to join him. It was thoughtful, sweet. And it was pretty typical of him.

Then again, after only one date, she was obviously assuming. But it was easy to assume nice things about Chuck Bartowski.

She thought about the note on the way up to her room, in the elevator, walking down the hallway. She thought about it as she opened her door. She thought about it while pacing the floor of her suite. She thought about it once she finally stepped into the shower.

She went back and forth over and over again. She was selfish. But she shouldn't be selfish. She shouldn't risk it. But wasn't this the type of risk she was talking about? The one that meant being human again? Being a real _person_?

This would be so difficult. Wasn't this what she was always trying to escape? Connecting with people? She'd only connected with less than a handful of people ever in her entire life. She never gave anyone a chance unless they were…particularly special, lucky, trustworthy. She couldn't do it.

But if she did, wasn't this a step in the right direction? But who was to say that was the right direction?

And what about Chuck? Shouldn't she consider him? He was a sweet, unsuspecting guy who simply thought she was some sort of government interpreter. He knew nothing of the truth. He didn't know she was a stone cold killer. The Ice Queen.

When she finally disappeared, when that next mission came through, he'd be left in her dust, wondering what happened to the pretty girl he'd thought he'd connected with.

It took a very long shower for her to finally realize that the note had already decided for her. There was no way she was ignoring it. She couldn't. She didn't have enough strength. Or enough self-loathing. She wanted to see him again. So bad that her hands were almost shaking when she finally turned off the water and reached out for her towel.

It was a little past noon when Sarah finally stepped into the midday sunlight. She'd pulled her damp hair back into a braid after her shower, not wanting to waste time with the loud, ineffective hairdryer that hung on the wall over the sink…and not wanting to waste time digging out her own from the bottom of her suitcase.

She put on tan capris with a white button-up blouse, a bra underneath instead of her bikini top. This _was_ a date after all. Or was it? She thought it might be…

She didn't know.

Did it count as a date if it was a casual 'You can come if you want to' sort of invitation? He was going to be there anyways, whether she showed up or not. Right?

She honestly wasn't all that knowledgeable about dating. Pretending to be romanced by marks didn't exactly give her the most experience. Getting a man to drink a drugged glass of wine was different from receiving a sweet invitation at the hotel front desk.

Nor was having a high-octane tryst with a partner after an adrenaline-pumping mission considered dating.

She was almost at her destination fifteen minutes later as she hurried down the boardwalk along the water, not letting herself get distracted by the view. Chuck wrote in his message that he would be at the restaurant from noon until 1:30, so that meant he'd still be there at 12:15, right?

She forced herself not to get all fluttery.

This wasn't a job. It was just meeting up with some guy she thought was nice. And she'd be fooling herself if she didn't also admit that he was disarmingly hot, the more she thought about last night.

Maybe if this _was_ a job, it'd be less nerve-wracking. She had way more control over a job. She could paste that certain smile on her face, and speak in just about any language. That included body language. Her mark would be thoroughly convinced.

But that control had been absent last night. She'd said too many things, done too many things, that bespoke of a certain lack of control. Things had a way of spilling out of her with this guy. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

But she needed to freaking control herself this time. She knew how charming he was, how comfortable he made her feel, even while he stripped her of common sense and caution. She'd be better about it this time.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she stopped at the outdoor cafe called Chez Adeline and realized this was a lot more casual than she'd thought. And she was glad that she hadn't worn a dress or something. Not that she'd figured it would be a super fancy five star restaurant since he was so cavalier about it in the note. One didn't go to a five star restaurant to hang out alone.

Calming her mind, which was running rampant with thoughts, the loudest of which was "Get out of here, this will only lead to trouble", Sarah walked through the patch of grass to the deck, casting her gaze around the benches where people were eating and chatting.

A soft breeze fluttered at her blouse and the wisps of hair that escaped her loose braid. She fixed her bag on her shoulder and stopped when she saw him.

Of course he was at a table against the railing, as close to the view as possible. He was lounging in his chair with his feet propped on the bottom rung of the railing, his eyes cast out at the sea. He looked peaceful, content. The whole vacation mode/casual thing suited him a little more than she was prepared for.

Chuck was wearing brown khaki pants that were rolled to his ankles, flip flops, and a pale blue button up with the sleeves loosely cupped around his elbows. The breeze made his curls shiver atop his head. She took the time to let her eyes run up and down his figure one more time, fighting back a shiver of pleasure at seeing him again, and then she dropped her gaze to the table he sat at. It seemed like he hadn't ordered anything yet. Was he waiting for her?

As she neared him, he casually glanced over his shoulder at her, like he'd felt her presence or something. He looked suspiciously like he was attempting to stifle the explosive grin on his face, but he was failing miserably. She liked that a lot.

"Hey, you came!"

Did he think she wouldn't? Or was he sure she would? How confident was he in his own charm?

She smiled back and watched him hop up to his feet in front of her.

"I did."

"Theeeen I take it you got the note I left for you. I didn't know if you were a message checker or not."

"Oh I always do. I may be on vacation but…work still finds me." When they wanted to, that was. Her smile inadvertently dimmed at that.

"I hear you loud and clear," he said with a roll of his eyes, luckily not catching it.

Then he grinned and trotted around the table to pull the chair across from his out for her to sit in.

"I gotta admit, though, I was kind of having a minor panic attack last night when I realized I never got your phone number." She sat in her chair and let him push her in a bit, glancing over her shoulder at him as he continued talking. "So I thought, you know, I could always just show up at your room since I know where it is now." He moved to his own seat across from her and sat down, scooting closer to the table and leaning with his elbows on it. "But then that's a lot of pressure, you know? For you, I mean. Like, if I just show up and say, 'Hello, would you like to go to lunch with me?' you might feel obligated since I'm standing right there in front of you. And I didn't want you to feel obligated. Nor did I want you to regret showing me where you're staying. So I thought leaving a note at the front desk for you might work. I mean either you got the note or you didn't. I asked him to make sure you knew that you weren't obligated to come," he rambled. "Did he tell you that? I mean, I was gonna be here eating a lazy lunch anyways. Did he tell you?"

"He did," she lied, because it felt like the nice thing to do. It didn't matter whether the clerk told her or not. She'd be here either way. She needed to see him again, whether it was prudent or not. She readjusted her sunglasses and mimicked him, leaning with her elbows on the table, too. "Well, I appreciate how thoughtful you were, going to all that trouble just to ask me out to lunch. But if you had showed up, I wouldn't have regretted letting you see where my suite is. I promise."

His toothy grin made her feel a little giddy.

"So are ya hungry?" he asked. "This isn't the fanciest establishment, but the vibe is nice and casual and the food is rated very highly on the delicious scale. So I've been told. Only thing is, we have to order at that window over there and then bring it over ourselves when it's ready."

"Sounds chill."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well…I thought chill was a good idea for lunch today."

"Chill is a good idea for everything every day," she said, bouncing a shoulder. And as he chuckled, she realized Agent Sarah Walker would never say something like that. _Chill?_ Her life wasn't chill. Her existence was _not_ chill. The nickname "Ice Queen" did not come about because she was _chill_.

But she smiled a little at him anyway, since he was looking at her with that bright look on his face.

"So…I snagged a menu…" He pushed it over to her. "If you pick what you want, I can go order for us and grab it. It's mostly salads and sandwiches. Soups."

"Lunchy things?"

"Lunchy things." He chuckled again.

They leaned close together over the tabletop and perused the small menu together, deciding on a canard baguette, an omelette baguette, and a croissant to share between them. Chuck proposed he retrieve their meal alone so that they wouldn't lose their table.

And ten minutes later, he staggered back to her, balancing everything in his arms with a wide-eyed look on his face, his cheeks puffed out. She laughed at him and stood up to take two of the plates off his hands. "I guess you were never a waiter, huh?"

He huffed in amusement. "That's the funny part. I was for a few months when I was in high school. Only a few months, though, because I was dreadful at it. Kind of clumsy. I cost that restaurant a fortune with the amount of plates I broke."

She smiled in amusement, eyeing their carb-heavy meal. Just looking at it made her want to take a nap and she let herself enjoy the fact that she could if she wanted to.

She offered to get them drinks and darted off when he agreed.

It took almost no time whatsoever for them to finish eating so that they were left with just their cold ciders and full stomachs. They seemed to wordlessly agree to stay where they were, enjoy the soft breeze, the perfect view, and the deliciousness of the hard cider.

Sarah eventually felt his gaze drift to her. She kept her blue eyes fastened on the large yacht pressed against a private dock about a mile down the shore and used her talents to keep from acknowledging that she felt him staring, lest she embarrass him. The assassin had been on so many missions, romanced too many marks. And she always knew she won when she felt them look at her like this, in the quiet moments. The way Chuck was looking at her now. But he wasn't a mark. He was just a man who thought he was looking at a woman, a normal woman. If he knew she was a murderer…

And when she shifted a little in her chair, she saw him quickly turn back to the dock. Sarah nearly smiled in amusement. Even the smallest of things that he did chased away the gloom that seemed ever-present in her, even when she'd been a little girl. She wasn't a fool. She knew there was something happening here, something she should run from.

Instead, she turned to face him with a thoughtful look. "So is this how video game gurus spend their vacations then?" she asked.

He snorted. "Um…Probably not, to be honest with you. Most of my employees would probably have brought their games with them. And all of this would be out here waiting for them if they ever left the gamer cocoon that their hotel room would inevitably become."

Sarah grinned and shook her head. "You're kidding."

"Only a little," he chuckled.

"Did you bring yours?"

He blushed and cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"You're totally lying to me." She knew he was. It was part of her training to learn to read people. To know when she was being lied to. And he hadn't even tried very hard.

"Wha—Well, now I'm offended. Why would I—No, you're totally right. I was lying. I did bring my laptop that has some video games on it. I couldn't resist. And…you know…a console. Or two." She laughed at him as he shrugged. He leaned over the table to continue. "But in my defense, I would never spend all my time doing that. Not with this place looking…well, looking like it looks. And the perfect weather. There's all this stuff to see and do. I know how to vacation, okay? I'm so good at…vacation."

Her smile grew with every word that came out of his mouth, so that by the time he finished, she was grinning like a madwoman. "You're really cute, you know that?"

"Cute? Well, thanks. Thanks for making me sound like a puppy."

She fell back against her chair and laughed, fixing her sunglasses. "You know how I meant it, you goof."

Chuck blushed adorably, before clearing his throat with a pleased smile on his face and finishing off his cider. "Do you have plans today?"

The question caught her off-guard. And while she had no plans, should she admit that? Not that playing hard to get was even slightly on the docket with Chuck Bartowski. With anyone really, unless she was attempting to get to a mark who required that kind of foolish behavior to be snared.

But if she just said "I have no plans today, tomorrow, the day after that, or ever really, unless my damn boss decides to call me" to Chuck, would it be a misstep? She'd have no excuse to fall back on if she wanted to back out.

And then she silently scoffed at herself.

Who was she kidding? So what if she ended up spending all day with him? She was certain it would be more enjoyable than sitting around by herself.

If she had to be stuck in Nice on "vacation" (which was actually an informal suspension), she might as well enjoy it to its fullest.

"Just general adventuring," she finally said with a shrug.

"Oh." He paused. "With anyone in particular?"

Sarah twisted her lips to the side and met his brown eyes, feeling heat rise from her blouse's loose collar as he blatantly flirted with her in that way of his that made her a little tingly.

Tingly? God…

What in the hell was she even doing? …Didn't matter. She was doing it anyway.

"Well, if you're game…with _you_ ," she said, shrugging one shoulder shyly. She wasn't sure how much of that was an act and it made her feel crazy.

"Oh, I'm so game. You can drag me all over this place if you want to." And maybe he hadn't meant to say that, what with the way he pulled back a little with his brow furrowed, as though he wondered where that had even come from. It was delightfully endearing how little he seemed to mind making fun of himself in front of her.

"Well, I don't know if I'll be dragging you, 'cause I was hoping you'd come willingly," she said with a flirtatious raise of her eyebrow.

"Very willingly," he said immediately. "Where to first?"

Sarah took a deep breath, not sure how to respond. Maybe it was just that she was a little overly eager about spending more time with him. Or maybe it was the way he said yes just as eagerly. And the resulting fluttery feeling in her at knowing he wanted to spend time with _her_ of all people. This kind, successful, handsome man who probably could have had his pick of any pretty girl vacationing here. A voice told her it was only because he didn't know the real her, and she shoved it back almost violently.

She bit her lip. "Okay, choose one," she said. "View, hiking, swimming, surfing, sailing, flying—"

"View," he interrupted. "I don't need to hear the other options. Let's do the view thing first."

Sarah nodded. "Okay, um…"

The large stone fixtures, the sprawling Riviera on either side with a view that stretched all the way to the Promenade des Anglais, the waterfall, the alleyways perfect for leisurely meandering and adventuring…

"Castle Hill," she said finally.

"I don't know what that is. But you said castle, so I'm onboard."

She laughed. "You are a nerd."

"Of many things," he added. "Is it an actual castle? Lemme guess. Is it a castle on a hill?"

Sarah laughed again and shrugged. "Pretty much. It was a chateau, technically, but now it's more of a park with trails and a ridiculous view."

"Sounds amazing. Let's go." He leapt up from the table and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Like a cartoon character or something. She was brimming at his antics.

"Now, hold on, tiger," she teased, reaching up to grab his arm and tug him back, standing up and acknowledging once again that he was so very tall. She kept her grip on his arm, smiling at his eagerness. "We need shoes we can walk in."

"Oh. Like, actual shoes? Right. Makes sense." He gave a flat look that she knew was directed at himself.

"Unless you want to take a taxi to the top. There's also a tram if you want to do that instead."

"The other option is hiking?"

"Well, it's not much of a hike. Just walking up a lot of stairs."

"I like stairs. Good for my ticker." He thumped his chest with his free hand and she raised her eyebrows. "I know. I'm a nerd."

"You are. But I like it."

This time, he raised his eyebrows. And then he smiled oh so slowly, and she decided they'd better get back to their rooms to put on shoes before she acted on the heat she felt and kissed him in front of all of these people. "Let's go."

"Meet in a few?"

"We're both going the same way, aren't we? At least for a little while," she said, gesturing towards the boardwalk.

"Oh. R-Right. Sorry."

Was he nervous or was it just her imagination? Because he seemed a little flighty. So she smirked and threaded her arm through his, pressing herself close to his side. "Are you okay?" she asked a little hesitantly as they started back.

"I'm actually fantastic. And, um…a little…"

She could see it in his face. The same feeling she had in her gut. "Overwhelmed?" She winced a little.

"Yes." Chuck snapped his head towards her and gave her a soft smile. "That's it exactly. I'm a little overwhelmed. A few days ago, I was kind of…just _here_. You know? And now I'm about to go to a castle on a hill with you, and it's—Don't get me wrong, this is amazing. I just don't know what happened between then and now. I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

"It's okay," she said reassuringly. "I like it when you ramble, too."

"A woman who likes that I'm nerdy _and_ that I ramble? Jackpot."

Sarah laughed, and the feeling of explosive happiness didn't dim even slightly as they split up to go to their rooms, when they met again in the lobby, and as they took a cab to the bottom of the hill. She was beginning to wonder if the climb would tire her out enough to stamp out the giddiness that seemed to be perpetual when she was around him.

If it wasn't that, it was something else. Like how enjoyable he was. He was just a total joy to be around. Seemingly game for anything, quick to smile and laugh, funny, open and honest, and he didn't take things too seriously, including himself. Which was rare in a man.

Stop being such a sap, she thought to herself as they started up the steps, leaving the red and white stone Hotel Suisse behind. The steps had the lush, green hill to one side and a beautiful view of the water on the other.

"Have you ever done this before?" Chuck asked, slipping his hands into his pockets as they moved up the steps at a comfortable pace. They seemed to wordlessly agree not to rush up to the top.

Sarah's reasoning was rather simple. She was looking forward to spending some quality time with Chuck during the journey. What was the phrase? Something about the journey being more important than the destination?

Sure. That.

"I haven't," she said, smiling a little as he widened his eyes and quickly skipped around behind her so that he ended up on the side closest to the hill, essentially switching sides with her on the path. "What was that?" she asked, legitimately confused.

"So you can have the better view."

"Well, you haven't done this, either."

"I can see it over your head. Not sure if you noticed but I'm, uh, kinda tall." He shrugged with teasing smugness.

Honestly, that was the first time Sarah'd ever heard anything like that. A man who could see over her head? People were usually either shorter than her, or only a few inches taller. Chuck had at least half a foot on her. And while height had never been much of a factor in whether or not she found a man attractive, she had to admit it was becoming a factor here.

Maybe she _did_ like her men tall.

Or maybe she just liked Chuck Bartowski.

"What?"

Sarah peered at him, taking in the soft smile, the way he squinted at her in the afternoon sunlight, the source now practically right over their heads. "What?" she parroted.

"You just smirked at something. What are you thinking about? Did I say something?"

"No, no," she said, waving him off. "Although, thank you for giving me the better view. Very chivalrous of you." Her teasing aside, she wagered nobody else would've even thought about that. Let alone taken action. But he'd already proven he was thoughtful and observant.

"Eh. It's no big. These plants are gorgeous, too." He flicked his thumb to the side at the greenery beside him, grinning.

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds surrounding them. Until finally, Sarah felt a bit of sweat trickle down her temple. It was probably about 20 degrees at the highest, which wasn't too terrible. But with the sun right on her head and the breeze being blocked by the hill, coupled with the exercise, she found herself needing the bottle of water she'd jammed in her small canvas rucksack.

She swung the single strap sack to her front, unbuckled the flap, and pulled the water out. "Want some?"

The look he sent her had his answer. And she didn't even bother trying to hold back the bubbling giggle. He looked like a man who'd been in the Sahara for days without water. Like she'd just saved his life.

Taking a long swig from the large bottle, she passed it off to him.

"You sure you don't mind?"

Sarah paused for only a moment, before she silently said to hell with it, and sent him a flirtatious look through her eyelashes. "After that kiss last night, do you really think I care about putting my lips where yours have been?"

He pulled the bottle away from his lips, choking as though the water had gone down the wrong pipe. "Hiyo," he wheezed, thumping himself on the chest. She helped him out a little, patting his back even as she did nothing to hide the cheeky smile on her face.

When he finally pulled himself together, needing one more sip of water, he screwed the cap back on and glared. "That was a hell of a moment to bring _that_ up."

"I have no shame about that kiss," she said matter-of-factly, taking the bottle from him and noticing the way her heart sped up as their fingers brushed during the exchange.

"Obviously not," he said drolly.

"Why? Do _you_?"

Chuck just laughed loudly, rocking forward a little. It was an interesting response to her question. That was for sure. And she raised a single eyebrow at him.

"I'm sorry," he said, waving his hand apologetically. "I didn't mean to laugh. Really. It's just…What a question that is. Me. Ashamed. Of _that_ kiss. Uhhh, no. That's a solid no. No shame. No shame whatsoever." She just watched him as he started his rambling again. "In fact, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that kiss was probably the crowning achievement of my life. Graduating from Stanford? I mean, eh. That was cool. Starting my own gaming company and having it take off the way it did? Guess that was pretty cool, too, yeah." At some point she'd have to stop him, but she was enjoying this too much. "What happened outside of your room last night, though? I mean…So yeah, no shame there. Nope. I—"

She didn't no how to handle him, so shut him up in the best way she knew how, moving her rucksack around to her back again and grabbing his arm to stop him, tugging him to face her with that same arm, and moving to her tip toes to kiss him again. Whatever word he'd been in the process of saying ended up muffled against her mouth.

He didn't seem to mind, though, as his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

The pure sex that was in last night's kiss wasn't as blatant now. But she still felt that all-encompassing warmth. Her toes even curled in her shoes.

And when she pulled back, looking up at his face, she was very pleased to see his eyelids flutter, his lips still pursed in awe. When he finally opened his eyes, that slow grin of his grew on his face. She bit her cheek to keep herself from kissing that grin right off.

"Okay, well…" He was quite the talker, this one. Even if he really had nothing to say.

Sarah licked her lips and cleared her throat, starting up the stairs again.

He eventually caught up with her and she had to work to keep him from seeing how pleased she was that it took him as long as it had.

The rest of the journey took longer than Sarah had thought it would, but like she'd mused at the beginning, the journey was the important part. And it had been even better than she'd hoped when she took that first step.

It was easy to talk to Chuck, learning about his work, his hobbies. She discovered that he liked the piano and that he'd had lessons as a kid, and when he couldn't afford them anymore, he just kept practicing on his own. But his favorite instrument to listen to was cello.

Sarah had no idea how hearing this man talk about cello music ended up being some of the most sensual few minutes of her life, but she'd emptied the water bottle while listening to him. If not because he was making her feel a little overheated, then because drinking gave her something to do to distract her from the tingling sensation between her legs.

She really had to make a point of listening to some cello music when she got back to her suite.

When they finally reached the top and began exploring, Sarah found Chuck to be a really good adventure partner. She could tell he was holding back a little, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of her, no doubt. And while it was flattering that he might want to impress her, she also wished he'd let loose a little more.

Then again, she was a hypocrite, because she constantly withheld almost everything at any given moment.

The boyish excitement that seemed to be radiating off of him as they strolled the pathways and looked up at the stone structures was so pleasant. Or perhaps a better word was pleasing. She almost forgot about her own wonderment.

It was something that she'd discovered only very recently, within the last year or so. But the world had so many beautiful things to offer. Both nature-made and man-made. And this was no different. The remainders of the chateau were stunning amidst the foliage, pressed into the brown hillside.

An hour passed by very quickly, and they eventually found themselves standing at a directory.

"So I don't know these words," Chuck informed her.

It made her laugh. She knew very well his difficulty with the French language. That was how she'd met him in the first place. And the poor guy had nearly gotten his head bitten off by a libidinous French surfer. "Oh, I know."

He glared, even as he smirked. "Well, I'm so sorry I don't know five hundred languages, Miss Smartypants."

" _I'm_ Smartypants? And which one of us graduated from Stanford again?"

Chuck opened his mouth to retort, then halted, shut his mouth, and pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing at her. "Touché, mon chéri."

It was an offhand comment, and yet the fact that he'd just addressed her as his darling made her insides sway.

"Think we can find someplace to sit and eat for awhile? Some refreshment?" she asked, breathless. She could always just pretend it was the heat.

Granted, she'd been in worse heat than this, and in harsher conditions, after more rigorous activity—like eluding capture by Interpol agents in Istanbul, for instance. That had been an awful day. This day was much, _much_ better.

"A capital idea, Watson," he said in a clipped English accent, offering her his arm. She took it, rolling her eyes at him and earning that massive grin again. He could do worse things than channel Sherlock Holmes, she supposed.

They eventually found a little café at the top where there was also a peaceful park.

The smell of freshly ground coffee assailed her senses as they stepped up to the stand made her buy some even though it was so warm out. She also bought some more water, as well as a baguette and fresh fruit. Chuck basically said "What she's having" in poor French and paid for all of it together before she could actually give the woman the money.

He merely shrugged in reply to her flat look as he pushed in front of her to pay.

"What?" he asked as they walked towards the nearest bench that had a nice tree beside it, shrouding the area in glorious shade. The breeze was back as well, since they were at the very top of the hill.

"You're sneaky, that's what."

"Only when I wear sneakers. Haaaa."

"Oh God." In spite of how cheesy that was, she found herself laughing and his resulting pleasure at making her laugh lifted her spirits significantly. Not that they were suffering before. "Just so you know, I'm laughing at you, not with you."

"Well, _I'm_ laughing with me so that's something."

She couldn't remember having a better day than this. And that was because she'd never _had_ a better day than this.

There were days with her father when she was a kid when he would take her out all day. Those had been such good days. Quality time spent with her dad "adventuring", as he'd called it. Looking back on it as an adult, it hadn't been adventure as much as swindling people blind. What bothered her now as she thought of those times wasn't that they'd been dishonest with innocent strangers. It was that her father had been dishonest with _her_. He'd made it all seem like a game they were playing. And she got rewarded in the form of rocky road ice cream when she won said game.

When she lost the game…Well, she got to watch TV in the hotel room while he finished a bottle of whiskey in the car outside.

Maybe she wouldn't have known the difference if he'd told her the truth. That what they were doing was illegal. And as she'd gotten old enough to know it was illegal, she found herself not caring much.

Either way, it still stung when she thought about it now.

"Hey, what's that look for?"

Sarah looked down and realized she was now sitting on the bench, holding her snack in her hands, being watched closely by a man who'd seemed to be nothing but honest with her since she met him.

"Hm? What look?" She put on an innocent face and popped the piece of bread in her mouth, chewing happily.

"You looked kinda morose for a second there. Like you weren't having fun. The thought of you not having fun fills me with dread. Is it me?"

The look on his face told her he was just teasing, most likely trying to make her smile as he nudged her with his elbow. She smiled back, trying to move on from her slip in controlling her face. "It's not you," she said, shaking her head. "I was just thinking about how nice of a time I'm having, actually."

"Do you usually frown when you think about how nice of a time you're having?"

That made her chuckle a little as she shook her head again. She took a moment to sip her coffee, reveling in the taste, how smokey and amazing it was, the soft hint of hazelnut.

Maybe she was absolutely crazy.

And maybe it wouldn't matter.

Maybe in a month she'd be back on the job and Chuck would be a nice, sweet memory. Him knowing something small about her past, something real…that wouldn't matter, would it? He wasn't an agent. He wasn't a terrorist or a criminal. He was just a guy who had a normal job, a normal life, a guy on vacation. He'd never use any of this against her. He'd never even see her again after this anyway. He'd never know anything but Sarah, the pretty woman he met on vacation in Nice that one time.

"I don't, actually. I was thinking about something else. Someone else."

"Oh." He didn't say anything else, shoving more food into his mouth. A lot of food actually, almost so that it looked like it was difficult for him to chew it. He resembled a chipmunk, actually. And as cute as it was, she couldn't help but wonder what prompted it.

Oh. _Oh!_

"Not like that. Not a someone like that." She giggled, nudging him with her shoulder and feeling herself blush. Was it just her imagination but had his reaction harbored a bit of jealousy? Maybe just a hint of it. Jealousy had always been something that annoyed Sarah. She hated what it did to people.

But for some reason, Chuck being jealous of some potential other man in her life made her want to hug the crap out of him. It was incredibly sweet. And where jealousy seemed to bring out the worst in everyone else she'd ever watched fall under its spell, the only effect it seemed to have on Chuck Bartowski was that he put more food in his mouth than he could chew.

"Oh, no, I wasn't…" he tried to say around the food. "I just…" He pointed to his still full mouth and continued chewing, blushing sheepishly. At least he was acknowledging how silly his jealousy was.

All Sarah could think about in that moment was how much she liked him. How powerful and immediate it was. And how much she wanted to talk to him. In a way that she'd never talked to anyone else. Ever.

"I was thinking about my dad."

He turned to face her and swallowed the rest of his food. "Oh." And he looked embarrassed by how relieved he sounded. "Sorry, I'm not that kind of guy. Really. The one that gets all…possessive and stuff. I don't mean to be a jerk."

"You're not," she reassured him, setting a hand on his wrist. "Not even a little bit."

"Oh." He looked relieved again, but she could tell he was waiting for her to continue.

And she only hesitated for a split second before she let it all spill forth. Lord help her.

"My dad and I don't really…see eye to eye. Anymore. Erm…what I mean is I don't really see _him_. I haven't seen him in…years. But the reason I thought about him just now was that this has been a really _really_ good day. The best I can remember actually." That made him grin so hard she wondered if the sun had somehow snuck around the branches and leaves and was beating down on her again. But no, it wasn't the sun. It was just him.

"I guess I was comparing it to the other good days I had…back when I was a kid. With my dad." She was drawing the line at telling Chuck exactly _what_ she did with her dad back then. The manipulation of people who answered the door and thought she was the cutest thing they'd ever seen in pigtails. "He used to buy me ice cream. And then he'd drop me off at home and go away again. He was…Well, he traveled a lot for work."

At least none of that was a lie.

And she wondered why it felt so much worse to lie to Chuck. If she just tiptoed around the lies, told as much of the truth as she could…she'd feel so much better than if she outright lied. She had already lied about her career, damn it. There was no real way to get around that other than a flat out lie.

"I'm sorry."

And the sincerity in his voice made her chest hurt a little. He wasn't looking at her with sympathy or pity. It was almost a sort of understanding that resided in his brown eyes, and as he looked down at his food in hand, she saw his jaw clench for a moment before releasing again.

"It's okay," she finally said with a shrug. "C'est la vie, as the French would say."

He sniffed in amusement, turning back to her. And then he sobered a little and swallowed. "Do you have any siblings?"

She was a little surprised by the question and she pursed her lips. This she had no trouble telling him the truth about. "Nope." She shrugged. "First, best, and only," she chirped, ending it with an amused little giggle. He gave her an incredibly soft, closed-mouth smile. "Which is probably good. They had trouble with one kid, I can't imagine what would've happened if they'd had two. Or worse, three." She shivered theatrically.

He laughed and watched her quietly, warmly. She liked it a lot. And she had no problem meeting his eyes in this moment.

"So what about your mom, then?"

"Oh, I haven't seen her since I was young. She's not really a…factor in my life." That was also the truth. But the reason why her mother wasn't a factor in her life, she was _not_ ready to tell _anyone_. Not even this big-hearted nerd sitting beside her.

It still hadn't really even occurred to Sarah that she'd only met said nerd the day before. This just felt so natural and…intimate.

"Oh. That's too bad."

"It is what it is," she shrugged.

He was silent for a little while, eating slowly this time. Sarah would even go so far as to say he was picking at his food a bit.

She didn't quite know what to say, so she was glad when he spoke up again.

"I don't want it to sound like I know exactly what you've been through, like I'm being super presumptuous about your life. But I think I understand at least a little."

Sarah perked up a bit, scooting slightly closer, her food forgotten for the time being. "You do?"

He nodded, going quiet again before peering out at the few other explorers strolling through the park, distractedly picking at the crust of the baguette and dropping it to the grass at his feet. "Yeah. I mean, I haven't seen my parents for… _years_." He shook his head and looked down at his coffee, taking a quick sip and licking his lips.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Chuck."

She hadn't meant for their adventure to veer into Depressing Life Story Land. But she wanted to hear Chuck's story. Something in his eyes told her this was something he still thought about, maybe often. And she found the idea of anything hurting Chuck, even in the smallest way, abhorrent.

"Nah, it's okay. I've had enough time to work through it. Time and therapy, of course." He let out a soft snort and shook his head. "You don't wanna hear about that, though. A real sob story, I am." The wink he sent her was sweetly self-deprecating, but Sarah saw through it easily. She didn't have to be a spy for that.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

He shook his head, eyes a little wide as he peered at her. "Not at all. I, uh…I mean, it's pretty simple. Mom left us when I was about 9. And um…" He let out a breath. "My dad was an engineer. Computer stuff, mostly. But he did contract work for companies around the LA area—you know, like business firms or law firms, things like that—and he was always working, locked away in his office. So it wasn't that different from before my mom left. Just a little…I don't know…worse. Then he started going off on business trips and to conferences and all that. He'd be gone for days, then weeks, then months…So we—that is, my sister and I—we pretty much took care of ourselves."

Sarah watched him closely, studying his eyes as he spoke. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for someone like him to be stuck with such awful parents. In a lot of ways, it made sense for _her_ to have a con artist for a father and, well, a mother like her mother.

But Chuck didn't deserve that.

And what did it say about him that even with absent parents, he ended up the way he was? He was so very obviously…good. He was just good.

"Chuck, that's—" She halted, shaking her head. "It's so unfair."

He met her gaze and smiled a little. "I know. But like you said, it is what it is." He shrugged. "I mean, by the time my dad stopped coming home altogether, Ellie and I—that's my sister, Ellie—we were already used to him not being around. It's almost like he weaned us off of him. Or maybe he was…weaning himself off of us." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously then, smirking. "Sorry, that's a really emo thing to say."

And for the first time since she met him, he looked sincerely lacking in confidence. She searched for a way to reassure him, to make him come alive again, have that happy look on his face. She'd really put a dampener on this adventure, hadn't she? Bringing up her dad and everything…

Served her right for opening up like the damn corpse flower that she was.

"It isn't. Not at all." She squeezed his arm. "But I have to say, I can't understand it."

"What can't you understand?" he asked curiously.

"Why anyone in their right mind wouldn't want to be where you are. All the time."

She blinked.

Where had that come from? She hadn't meant to say that.

But now she had and the way he was looking at her, almost as though he was in awe, as though that was the last thing he expected her to say…Apparently she'd said exactly what needed to be said, and she was so glad.

Because that light was back in his eyes. And his smile reached every last delicious part of him.

And then he set down his food and coffee on the bench on his other side and shifted close, cupping her face between his hands and kissing her so damn gently that she wondered if his lips were even touching hers for a split second. When he pulled back, she blinked at him a few times, nearly melting against him when he nudged her nose with his.

"Thank you. You didn't have to say that."

"I know." She shrugged, feeling a little shy. And this was probably the first time in a _very_ long time that she'd felt shy. Sarah Walker, the "Ice Queen", didn't _do_ shy.

They finished their food and coffee soon thereafter, then started for the waterfall Sarah had read about before. She didn't tell him that was where she was taking him, because she wanted to see his face light up. She wanted to see that boyish glee, and his attempts in vain to stamp it out in case he came off perhaps a little _too_ boyish.

They heard the roaring water before they could see it, and the look of confusion Chuck sent her made her grin like an idiot. And then when they _could_ see it, he halted in his tracks. He gaped for a moment, then clenched his fists and pressed them against his mouth.

"Ooooh, maaan!" He continued to stare, his jaw practically at his feet.

Sarah found the wherewithal to tear her gaze from the adorable sight of him being absolutely mesmerized by the famed Castle Hill waterfall, looking at the water cascading beautifully down the man-made stone face. It truly was a wonder to behold. Along with the crashing sound of the water smacking the rocks and falling down below, it was quite nearly overwhelming.

"This must be heaven," he breathed, and she barely heard him over the water.

They spent a bit longer than she'd planned there as Chuck read every last bit of information about it, and not just on the plaques, but pulling up info on his smart phone as well. He loudly announced interesting facts over the roar of the waterfall, causing a few other tourists nearby to glance at him with a hint of humor every so often.

Sarah didn't have it in her to be embarrassed by his enthusiasm. It was almost overwhelming how endearing it was. How did someone who'd practically had to raise himself after being abandoned by his parents manage to keep such a beautifully innocent and somewhat childlike view of the world? He was an absolute enigma.

She unabashedly wanted so much more of him.

They finally walked around to the observation point and leaned against the balustrade to look out at the bay and the promenade down below, Chuck seeming to have calmed down a little now that the roaring waterfall was left behind. The sun was at their backs, quite nearly touching the horizon to the west. And the sky was turning from blue to red-orange. It was a stunning sight to behold, and she followed Chuck when he turned his back on the bay and city to walk across and watch the sun start to sneak down, providing a backdrop for the buildings dotting the rolling hills of Nice.

After a few minutes of contemplation about whether or not she should, Sarah reached out to slip her hand into his. And after a little while longer, she tugged on his hand gently, meaning to start back down the path. They could find a nice spot for dinner, maybe have some wine by candlelight.

But he held fast, turning to face her. "There's something I need to tell you."

She hadn't been expecting that. Or the look on his face. It was sheepish, and maybe even a little guilty. She wasn't nervous about whatever it was he had to say. He wasn't a spy, after all. But she was curious.

"What is it?" she prompted when all he did was lick his lips and shift his weight to the other foot.

"It's about my sister. Well, I mean…no. I mean…It's about last night, actually. At dinner."

She tilted her head. "Dinner?"

"Yes. God. I lied to you. I'm such a loser. This is gonna sound so lame and I'm so sorry, but I have to tell you the truth. It's been eating at me. Remember when I pretended I dropped my spoon and then I hid under the tablecloth for, like, a good three minutes?" he asked, pushing a hand through his hair in what looked like frustration. Or maybe…anxiety?

"Yes. That couple you were avoiding because they were overly friendly."

"Right. Well, uh…what I mean is, well, wrong. I mean that's—I lied. Because they weren't just overly chatty tourists I got stuck on a boat with." He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. At himself, she mused. "I lied about that. They're actually—Well, she's my sister and he's my sister's fiancé." He winced and rubbed his hands down his front.

Sarah stared, wide-eyed, her mouth agape. "That was your _sister_?"

He buried his face in his hands and groaned a muffled, "Yeeees."

"Why did you want to hide from your sister?" she asked. "Is she that bad?"

"No, no! Not at all! That's why I feel like such a jerk, it's just…God, I'm so lame. I just didn't want them to see me and hurry over to introduce themselves. I mean, on a first date, that's like the worst possible thing to have happen. You being forced to meet my sister who practically raised me and her really well-intentioned but sometimes overly exuberant fiancé. They're both such fantastic people and I love them, really I do, just…Jesus, it would've been so awkward for you. And, uh, and me. Ellie's way more socially adept than I am, don't get me wrong. But she'd be a little embarrassing, honestly. Probably would've tried to talk me up to you or something. And Devon…I love him, but he has this cheesy grin and he winks a lot at inappropriate things during inappropriate moments." Finally, _finally_ , Chuck took a deep breath, turning red. She didn't know if that was a blush or if he'd literally started running out of air he rambled so fast and for so long.

"Well, I get why you hid from them," she said, trying not to laugh for fear he'd take it as an insult. "But why not just tell me? I wouldn't have leapt up from my seat to invite them over to eat with us, you know. Why did you make up that story about the couple on the ferry or whatever? Why not just say 'oh it's my sister I don't want her to come over here'?"

"Because I didn't want you to think I was lame. Which, in hindsight, is really ridiculous. Considering this makes me sound waaaay more lame than if I'd just told you the truth." He winced. "I'm here on this romantic getaway…wiiiiith my sister and her fiancé."

She shook her head and furrowed her brow.

"Sarah, it's sad and lame. I'm basically the most giant third wheel on the planet in this situation."

"Has that put a dampener on your vacation?"

"I mean…no, not really."

"Then who cares?"

Chuck blinked and crossed his arms, a smile growing on one side of his mouth, giving her a slightly crooked happy look. "I guess you probably think I'm kind of a dweeb."

"A little. Yeah. But your heart's in the right place." She giggled when he gave her a flat look.

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Sarah."

And he was sincerely sorry, she could see. She heard it in his voice, too.

Something down inside of her screamed that she was the _ultimate_ liar. She did her best not to let the guilt get to her right now in this warm moment between them. Here this man was fretting about a tiny lie he told her to save face—a purely desperate and sweet attempt to make himself look good in her eyes. And here she stood, having gone almost her entire life getting ahead through lie after lie.

If she even thought to judge him for lying about his sister, then she was a total hypocrite.

They walked back down again, hand in hand, and she shivered a little as they neared the bottom, now that the sun had slipped behind the buildings in the west and the sky was quickly darkening.

When Chuck seemed to notice the goosebumps crawling up and down her arms, he suggested they walk faster, until finally they opted to take a taxi back to their hotel.

Chuck let her pay for their ride, which she hadn't really expected, even while she appreciated it.

They stopped at the elevator in their building and she pressed the button to call it down.

"So, uh…Do you want to get dinner?" Chuck asked, pushing a hand through his hair.

She smiled at him as the elevator arrived, the ding seeming to startle him a little as he'd apparently gotten caught up in her smile. It was flattering. Sweet. "Sounds nice," she said as they stepped inside. They each pressed the button for their respective floors.

"I'm gonna need a shower first, though. And…erm, well…there's a restaurant across the street that is really formal. I don't know if you've got anything formal, but would you wanna go there? It's okay if not. We can do something more…erm…casual. If you're more comfortable with that."

So he wanted to take her to a fancy restaurant. Hmm. She was maybe smirking just a little. "I've got a little something I can throw on."

Maybe she hadn't meant to say that quite so flirtatiously, but he didn't seem to mind it.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened on her floor. "This, uh, this is my stop," she said, inching towards the elevator's exit, waiting for him to say something.

"Oh!" He stepped forward to make sure the doors didn't close on her by placing his foot against it. "How long do you think you need to get ready?"

Sarah made a show of thinking over her answer. "7:30?" That gave her two whole hours.

"You got it."

Then a thought occurred to her. "Wait. The restaurant across the street? La Rose?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"It's always got people spilling out of it whenever I see it. Are you sure we can get a table? You probably have to make reservations way in advance. Like _days_ in advance." She moved out of the elevator and turned back to him, and she was pleasantly surprised when he placed his hands on either side of the threshold, leaning very close, his face only inches from hers.

"I'll take care of it."

The confidence in that statement, the way he smirked a tad, the jaunty way he was popping his hip… He was almost cocky. And as he stepped back into the elevator, leaned back against the rail, and crossed his arms, getting in a quick wink before the doors shut, Sarah shivered a little.

If that wasn't one of the sexiest displays of poise and self-assurance she'd ever seen in any man she'd ever known in her life, well then she wasn't one of the world's deadliest assassins.

The fact was that she just so happened to be one of the world's deadliest assassins.

Which meant she was looking forward to the rest of the night much, _much_ more than she'd been even a few minutes ago.

* * *

Thanks, everyone! See you all soon!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	5. Liquid Courage

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** I keep coming back to find more and more readers, more reviewers. You're all too good. Cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. And there are more, still, who are sending me private messages. I appreciate all of you, as well!

 **Warning:** This chapter contains sexual content. Like y'all didn't see this coming. (wink)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making money.

* * *

Chapter 5: _Liquid Courage_

Two hours later, there was a knock on the door of Sarah Walker's suite.

She quickly put her dangling black sapphire earrings in her ears and smoothed her hands down the front of the silken material of her burgundy dress. It was a halter, with a tightly pleated bodice that swept up from a form-fitting sash, but the wide strap that went around her neck was covered in oval-shaped black sapphires. The fabric was light as a feather and fell elegantly to the floor at her feet, prompting her to wear black strap sandals with a tall heel to keep the dress from touching the ground as she walked.

Chuck would have to wait just a moment longer, she decided, as she took one last look at her hair. She decided to leave it down, falling over her shoulders in perfectly styled waves, feeling a little like Jessica Rabbit. If only she were a redhead.

A certain redhead she knew would never let her live it down if she knew Sarah had just thought that.

The knock sounded again, this time a little more tentative. And she could only imagine him shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe he was too early or too late, wondering if maybe she wasn't here. If she'd forgotten. If she'd stood him up, ran off to who knew where…

But Chuck Bartowski wasn't the sort of guy a red-blooded heterosexual woman stood up.

Maybe Sarah Walker had some deep-seated issues, but not knowing a catch when she saw one was _not_ one of said issues.

In spite of the thrill of anticipation, Sarah was still an agent with the CIA. She'd still killed a very important man a few days ago. So she snagged her small black clutch in her hand and fingered the blade inside, ready to use it if her date wasn't on the other side of that door. It was him, it had to be. The sound of his knock…

Still, she was cautious as she hurried to the door and opened it, her eyes immediately fastening on a very appealing sight.

Very appealing was an much so that she accidentally breathed a surprised "Oh" out loud the moment she saw him.

She didn't think she'd ever seen a man look quite so enticing in a tuxedo. It was a slim cut black tux, the jacket held closed by one button in the middle of his abdomen. And underneath he wore a black dress shirt. All of which was topped with a black silk bow tie. Black on black on black. _Hellooo_ , she heard the naughty voice inside of her head sing. She actually hadn't been aware she _had_ a naughty voice until this trip.

It didn't help that Chuck actually tried to do something with his curly hair so that it looked a little neater. He was usually all windswept, his short curls going every which way. They were tamed now, but still looked just as soft and touchable.

His good looks weren't creeping up on her quite so much anymore. Instead, it was like a punch to her gut.

"You are literally breathtaking to look at," he said quietly, his hand falling from where he had it behind his back. One perfect red rose was clutched between his fingers.

But she didn't notice. She was too focused on the fact that she'd had her good looks pointed out to her in so many different ways and by so many different people that it had simply lost its meaning to her, but never had she heard anyone put it quite like Chuck just had. He'd said it as though she had literally taken his breath away.

Was she going insane? He was driving her insane. How did this man even exist in real life?

He had to have some sort of fault somewhere. A big one. It had to be there.

But she'd be damned if she'd spend all her time and energy finding it when she could be spending it in a much more enjoyable fashion. Like enjoying his merits.

"Thank you," she managed to say, the blush on her cheeks very real. Probably one of the first real blushes of her life. "And black on black on black, huh? Typically worn by a confident man," she teased.

He smoothed his free hand down the front of it and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I thought maybe it had the possibility of being something of a risk."

Sarah reached out to play with one of his lapels between her fingers, before stroking the line of the lapel down to the button.

Strange how easy it was for her to touch him. It had been easy to touch other people before, too, but it had always persuasion, manipulation, goading, cajoling, lying. Trying to make them think she wanted them, that they were safe…lull them into a sense of confidence and invincibility.

If she wasn't playing a mark, she stayed away from people. She interacted only as much as she had to. And she definitely didn't _touch_. It was a connection she didn't seek. She didn't want it. Or need it.

She dropped her hand back to her side. "That risk really paid off."

He looked incredibly pleased at that, and he really was so cute. When had cute become her type? When had cute even been a word she used? And when had she even thought about _having_ a type before now?

"Oh! This is for you," he said.

He lifted the rose for her to take and she did, letting out a quiet, short giggle and meeting his gaze.

"Thank you. It's beautiful."

He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets, pulling a bit at his jacket and making him look incredibly sexy. Yet at the same time he was his usual down-to-earth, approachable self.

She was in trouble.

Any woman would be.

And she left with him anyways.

When they finally got across the street and strolled up to La Rose, making quite the couple in the midst of tourists and French natives alike, Sarah found her prediction to be true. She overheard the hostess telling a couple who'd come in off the street that La Rose took reservations three days in advance.

She was expecting the same comment when they stepped up to the podium, and she winced a little at the thought of the embarrassment it might cause her companion. But when Chuck said his name, the hostess immediately grabbed menus and smiled widely, going out of her way to be incredibly kind as she passed them off to another hostess who beamed just as readily.

Not only had Chuck gotten them in at an apparently exclusive restaurant without making the appropriate three-days-in-advance reservation, these people were treating them like royalty.

But it was when they were led to a relatively secluded corner beside a window that looked out over the water that Sarah started feeling like this was too good to be true. And she was sure the suspicious looks she threw Chuck were alerting him to the fact.

Who was this guy?

The last time something like this had happened, she'd been escorting a professional gambler in order to be invited to an important card game where the players were more or less criminal filth.

The hostess handed them the wine menu and detailed their special entrées for the night, before rushing off and leaving them alone. Chuck grinned with a shrug. "I told you I would take care of it."

"What, do you have ties to the French mob or something?"

That made him laugh as he opened the wine menu. "Nothing of the sort. And what does it matter how I got us in? I got us in."

So he was going to be coy, was he? She gave him a look, feeling more than just a thrill when he returned her look with one of his own, tinged with mischief.

"Uh huh. I'm just saying, this is something that happens when you go out on a date with an illegal arms dealer. I've seen movies, I know what's up."

He chuckled again. "I called in a favor. And I promise Paul Bernard of Bernard Mattresses is not an illegal arms dealer. Though," he said, holding up a finger, "a mattress would be a really good place to hide a few AKs. What with the springs and stuff to hide the metal."

She laughed. "You know Bernard Mattresses guy?"

"Well, his son. Who married an heiress. Whose daddy is a billionaire. I did Bernie a huge, massive favor at his LA headquarters. Computer meltdown type stuff. And now he feels like he's indebted to me. No big deal." He flicked an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder.

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah. If I hadn't come in, he might've lost a lot of really important assets. Big money. He has a place out here, right on the water. And a yacht. I know this because he didn't shut up about it when I helped him out last month."

Sarah widened her eyes. "Mattresses must be lucrative."

He snorted. "Marrying a rich girl is also lucrative."

Fifteen minutes later, they were still enjoying their appetizers and wine, waiting for their entrées to arrive, when Sarah decided to return to what he'd talked about earlier, at the waterfall.

"So you came here with your sister."

"Yep. And her fiancé, Captain Awesome."

Sarah frowned in confusion. "Captain…Awesome?"

What, was he some sort of action figure doll?

Chuck winced a little, even as he smiled. "Ellie'd get pissed if she knew I was calling him Captain Awesome to someone new. She hates that name. But it just fits him so well. The guy—Man, everything he does is just so awesome."

Sarah leaned her elbow on the table and set her chin on her palm, smiling as she listened, not caring if her eyes sparkled a little brighter after the full glass of red wine she'd enjoyed already.

"Rock climbing, whitewater rafting, hang gliding…flossing."

A sudden laugh bubbled out, and she grinned harder, shaking her head. "That's funny."

"Yeah, well, Ellie doesn't think so," he said, chuckling.

It sounded to her like the typical brother/sister dichotomy. She couldn't help but feel a minor pang of envy. What would her life have been like if she'd had a sibling? Would things have turned out differently? It sounded like Chuck and Ellie had raised and supported each other. And if the last two days of spending time with this man were any indication, Ellie had done a damn fine job.

They ate quietly for the most part, Sarah allowing herself the chance to really enjoy the lobster thermidor she'd ordered. Eventually, though, she peered up at Chuck and noticed that he was watching her plate with some form of awe in his features.

"Wishing you ordered the lobster thermidor?" she asked, stopping what she was doing.

"Huh?" He blinked and shook his head, letting out an amused huff at his own expense. "Sorry, I was just watching you work on that lobster shell. Just, like, a flick of your wrist, a twist of the knife, and the thing snaps right where you want it to. Such precision and skill. Almost no effort. Impressive."

Sarah bit her bottom lip and gave the outer shell one more quick snap to dig out more of the delicious lobster, egg, cheese mixture inside. She did it without looking away from Chuck's gaze even once, lifting her fork to her mouth and eating it slowly. "What can I say? Practice."

"Oh, yeah? Eat a lot of lobster?" He grabbed the bottle of wine and skillfully refilled both of their glasses.

"Mm." She shrugged one shoulder and smirked slowly. "I guess I'm a girl with expensive taste." She leaned even closer, letting the candlelight illuminate her features. "That's probably a turn off for a lot of guys."

He set the bottle down leaned close as well. She was distantly glad he had worn a bow tie, otherwise his tie would've ended up in his lobster bisque.

"Not every guy."

Sarah just stared back at him, quietly taking him in, listening to the soft jazz music floating through the restaurant, the clinking of knives and forks against plates, the heat from the candle in the middle of the table, and the delicious buzz she felt from the wine she'd imbibed. She wasn't sure the buzz was only from the wine, though. She typically held her liquor rather well. It was necessary, as the loss of control during a mission, especially while spending time with a mark, could lead to some very bad things.

"Me. I'm talking about me," he apparently felt the need to clarify. And then he sat back and winced, as though he feared that he'd broken the spell.

But he hadn't. She hoped her resulting smile conveyed that to him. She ate a little more and glanced at him through her eyelashes again. "I like you, Chuck."

His grin did that thing in her chest again where she felt like butterflies were fluttering around inside of it, trying to get out.

They finally escaped through her own grin.

"So I haven't scared you off yet, huh?"

She shook her head. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Well, yeah. But you just said you're a lobster woman. And that's lobster thermidor in front of you. From one of the most decadent restaurants in France. I feel like it'd take a lot to get you to leave that on the table, uneaten."

She laughed. "You make a really good point. But even if this was…a bowl of oatmeal or something…I wouldn't be going anywhere." And then she paused, snapping the lobster shell again. "I have every intention of seeing this date through to the very end," she finished slowly.

As curious as she was to see how Chuck took that comment, she kept her eyes on her food.

He could take it however he wanted to.

And then he cleared his throat and she glanced up through her eyelashes again. He was watching her work on the lobster again. Did Chuck have some sort of fetish with women who were good at eating lobster?

"Sorry, it's just…impressive." The way he said impressive left no doubts as to what else was hidden in that word. He meant sexy. And by the look in his brown eyes, and with the way the candlelight danced in his gaze, he was probably even a little turned on.

She was perfectly fine with this development.

"You know, Chuck…This isn't the only thing I excel at." She slid her gaze from his bisque, up his deliciously clad torso, to his face, catching his eye just as she cracked the lobster shell again.

He literally jolted a little in his chair and she watched his Adam's apple bob. And then he threw his wine back like it was a shot of something much harder. At least he wasn't clueless to her blatant come ons. Although his response was something she hadn't experienced before with her marks. It was oddly endearing. Or maybe she only found it endearing because it was him.

Sarah bit her lip to keep from showing her amusement. She really didn't want him to think she was laughing at him. In all honesty, he had as much of an effect on her as she was apparently having on him. And while it was getting harder and harder not to show it as they finished their meal, she still had years of spy training under her belt.

Chuck had nothing of the sort. She'd spent enough time with him now to know with 100 percent certainty that man sitting in front of her was not a threat in any way. Well, at least…not like that.

As the flirting continued he kept knocking back his wine, until another bottle had to be brought as their entrée plates were taken away.

They decided to share a large slice of pear tart. It came with a heaping scoop of French vanilla ice cream that was the perfect texture.

And Chuck looked supremely content as he dug in. There was also a bit of a glaze over his warm brown eyes. The glaze she recognized as coming from having a bit too much alcohol. With the way he'd seemed to not have any trouble keeping up with her in the flirtation department, she wondered if the wine had contributed to his efforts.

Or maybe it wasn't the wine. And he felt the spark flaring between them just as acutely as she'd been feeling it all day.

It became stronger and stronger as the night went on.

"This is really good ice cream," he said as he dipped the tart on his fork in the creamy vanilla and popped it into his mouth with a groan that made Sarah feel like someone had tied a knot right behind her belly button.

She squirmed a little in her chair and played it off with a slow smile. " _I_ like it."

"Even though it isn't Rocky Road?"

Even under the influence of too much wine, he still remembered the tiniest detail about their conversation earlier that day in the park on top of Castle Hill. She found she was completely unsurprised, but still pleased.

"Even though it isn't Rocky Road," she agreed with a quiet smile.

And then Chuck stilled, narrowing his eyes as he chewed, his tongue sweeping out to lick his lips. She tried not to watch too closely. "Do they even have Rocky Road in France?"

Sarah giggled. "I don't know. I've never tried to look for it."

"Oh." He looked deep in thought for a moment as he turned to stare out of the window at the dark sea beyond. And then he turned back to her and leaned over the table, his face close to hers. Not for the first time, she decided his good looks were very different from those of any other man she'd met. They weren't quite so obvious, because he was kind of a goof. In the best way. But God, when he was close like this, his features tinged with just a bit of sincerity, his lips upturned in the smallest of smiles, he was seriously handsome. His jaw and his nose were especially well built. "I'm gonna find some for you. Just you wait. If it exists, I'll get it."

Sarah just smiled, unable to keep it from growing into a grin so wide it hurt her cheeks a little. "See? Black on black on black. Confidence."

"I'm determined like that," he finished in a soft breath, amused at her reference to what she'd told him at the door of her suite earlier.

That feeling between her legs returned and she squirmed again, disguising it by leaning forward to gently brush his lips with hers. Just a taste. "So am I. But my determination has nothing to do with ice cream."

His closed eyes snapped open and she saw that he understood her meaning quite clearly, even with how hazy his mind must be. She'd lost count as far as his wine intake went. But half of their second bottle was gone already and she'd only had three-quarters of a glass out of that one. The rest was all him.

"Check, please," he muttered, lifting his hand and turning away from her, casting his eyes around the room.

She laughed and shyly tucked her hair behind her ear, silently agreeing with his impatience.

It took another fifteen damn minutes for them to pay and make their way out of the restaurant, though.

And Chuck was a little unsteady on his feet, she noticed. She didn't want to embarrass him, so instead of holding him up like she thought he might need, she wrapped an arm around his waist and tucked herself into his side to make him feel like they were cuddling, trying hard not to laugh.

He was an incredibly sweet drunk.

The way he chirped "Bonjour!" at the people they passed by. Luckily everyone seemed to be in good spirits, as well, and they responded politely. One man even accepted her companion's fist bump as they crossed paths.

"Nice is really beau-ful at night, don't you think? Like, at home, I can never see the stars. Like, I see a few of 'em every so often. You know? Like, usually with a big city, you can't see stars. But there are _so many_ here!" He'd stopped on the sidewalk, letting his head fall back as he gaped up at the sky.

She grinned and put her hands on his shoulders to get his attention. His smile was so beautifully happy as he lowered his chin and stared at her again. "It really is beautiful, isn't it? Do you want to go inside, Chuck?"

"I do!"

"Okay," she chuckled, seriously heart-warmed by him as he draped an arm over her shoulders and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek while they walked into their hotel's lobby. It took a bit of effort, but they moved past the lobby, out to the path leading to their own building, and finally stopped at the elevator.

As they waited for the elevator to arrive, Chuck's weight became a little heavier against her side, and then she felt his nose nuzzle her cheek, and then his lips were pressed to her jaw.

And then he was turning to wrap her up in his arms, kissing her neck with a surprising amount of determination. Sarah took a deep breath, a slow smile spreading over her lips as she held onto him. The elevator dinged and the doors opened just as he worked his mouth up to hers.

She kissed him with just as much gusto as she carefully stepped back towards the elevator. She pulled her lips from his to glance at the control panel, smacking the button for the eighth floor distractedly, since he was licking and nibbling at the place just below her ear. Oh, she hadn't known that was such a sensitive spot until this moment, and she couldn't help but moan softly.

As the elevator lurched to life, she nearly lost her footing, as distracted as she was. But even as drunk as _he_ was, he had the awareness to wrap his arms even tighter around her, holding her steady, close. And he kissed her with a staggering amount of passion.

Her back was against the wall of the elevator then and she had to slap her hand over the railing, she was so surprised. His lithe figure was pinning her so deliciously. She dragged her other hand up his tuxedo jacket's lapel, teasing his bow tie with a little tug before wrapping her arm around his groaned, his hands clenching the material of her gown as he kissed her even harder.

But then the elevator stopped and Sarah forced herself to pull back from the kiss. She giggled as his pursed lips continued forward and almost met with the wall because she'd stepped out from in front of him.

He nearly tipped, but she caught him and guided him safely out of the elevator, moving down the hallway slowly, considering he was holding her back to his front as they awkwardly penguin-waddled practically the whole way to his room. Chuck's lips were freaking magnetically attached to her neck, she decided, but she also decided she had no problem with that at all.

When they arrived at his room, he teasingly (or perhaps drunkenly) closed his teeth over her shoulder, just gently enough to make her gasp.

God, he was wreaking havoc on her senses. She was quickly losing her sense of control.

"Chuck, your key," she just barely kept her voice from failing.

"Mmmm, my key," he grumbled, dragging his lips up to her neck and jaw again, his arms pulling her so tightly to his front that she felt every last inch of him.

She whimpered under her breath, biting her lip. "Chuck, I love what you're doing, don't get me wrong. But focus for a second on what I'm saying. You need to get your key out so that we can get inside of your room."

"Mmmyes. Bedroom," he slurred, nibbling on her pulse point.

 _Jesus Christ_ , she thought to herself. Trying her best not to snap completely, she turned in his arms, smirking when he used that as an opportunity to pin her to the door and continue kissing her. His tongue swept against hers and she sighed, opening her eyes to try to see what she was doing.

A skillful hand slid down his front, dipping into his tuxedo pants pocket, feeling for the key card. Chuck took that as encouragement and growled her name against her lips, nearly sending her right over the edge. She really couldn't let them round third base in this hallway.

That just wasn't done.

So she tried his other pocket. No luck.

And then she pushed both hands into his back pockets and pulled his wallet out. Chuck whispered her name against her cheek and she had to shut her eyes and take a deep breath to keep as much composure as she could as she opened his wallet and peered over his shoulder to thumb through the cards there. Finally, she pulled his room key out and put his wallet into his pocket again.

This caused Chuck to jerk his hips into hers and she gasped at the feeling of the bulge in front of his pants rubbing against her.

She turned around, letting him sweep her hair away from her neck and continue kissing the revealed skin from behind.

Finally, she was able to get them into his room, and he half staggered into her.

She spun and took a step towards him, catching his weight, straining a little as she reached behind him with her foot and kicked the door shut. Walking backwards, she guided him through the door that led into the bedroom and stopped when the backs of her legs ran into his mattress.

Sarah didn't care to take any of it in, as engrossed as she was in Chuck's kiss, the way he grabbed at her with his large, warm hands, the way her heart was pounding in her chest like a hummingbird's.

How strong and gentle he was all at the same time as he held her in his arms and touched her.

She turned them around and gave him a playful shove so that he landed on the mattress, an explosive grin on his face as he looked up at her. Giggling a little, she crawled over him and continued kissing, focusing on _his_ neck this time. His cologne was mesmerizing. Not overly pungent, but absolutely invigorating all the same. Natural.

His body was so hard beneath hers and his hands were still clumsily grappling for the zipper at the back of her dress, the sweet man.

"Srrhh…" He slurred her name again, his lips against her hair, before she felt his hands slide off of her back altogether and fall to the mattress limply.

Sarah stopped, her lips pressed against his jaw. Furrowing her brow, she pushed herself up to her elbows and looked down at his face.

His eyes were shut, his face peaceful, his lips still pursed in a half-kiss.

She couldn't help it.

She laughed, pressing her face into his chest, her voice muffled against his tuxedo.

Scooting up his body, Sarah stroked her fingers down his cheek and kissed his lips ever-so-gently, before swinging her weight to the side and flopping on her back next to him, giggling again as she covered her face with both hands.

This was ridiculous, but also the most wonderful she'd ever felt in her entire life.

Sure, they hadn't had sex, but how far would she really allow it to go with him as inebriated as he was? Not _that_ far. As much as she wanted him. It was best that he'd clocked out before she had to make that decision.

Sarah turned her head to peer at him. He was still immaculate in his tuxedo, even though the bow tie was a little crooked.

She'd done that.

She shifted onto her side, facing him, and reached up to undo his tie with one hand, the other hand propping her head up so that she could see what she was doing in the moonlight that flooded into the room. With that done, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket, and did her best to climb over him without jostling him so that she could stand up beside the bed.

Taking in how tall he really was, which was somehow even more evident with the way he was sprawled on his bed, she wondered if maybe she should've stopped him from drinking so much. Had she made him nervous? Was he simply not paying attention to what he was putting in his body? Or was it a whole bunch of things put together?

It didn't really matter, because he was out like a light. And she was so drawn to how peaceful he looked, his long eyelashes and mussed hair, his lips pursed in a bit of a pout.

He'd be a little worse for wear in the morning, though.

She untied his shoes and pulled them off of his feet, lifting his legs so that he was lying properly on the mattress. And then she carefully put a pillow under his head, letting her fingers stay in his curls maybe a little longer than necessary.

She eventually backed away, hoping he wouldn't feel too poorly in the morning. He was tall, and he certainly weighed enough, she'd discovered as she practically had to hold him up after they got off the elevator a few minutes earlier. He could handle alcohol, she thought. But wine was one of those drinks that certain people couldn't hold as well as others. Maybe wine was this beer-drinking atypical frat boy's weakness.

She still felt the buzz herself, admittedly.

Or maybe the buzz was from the way he'd kissed her and touched her…

Sarah decided to get out of here before she followed that line of thought too far.

She left the lights off in the room, crossing to the sliding door that led to the balcony and pulling the shutters across to cover the doors as quietly as she could, before slipping out into the main room of the suite and finally emerging into the hallway. Before she went back to the elevator, Sarah leaned forward to press her forehead against the cool wood of the door and sighed heavily, letting her eyes slip shut.

To say she was frustrated was maybe a little bit true. But it wasn't like she didn't know where to find him. The way they hadn't hesitated to continue their day together even when they had to split to change for dinner told her she would see him again. And the way he'd looked at her.

As she stood in the elevator, headed for her own floor below, Sarah felt the warmth of him mix with the warmth of the wine and good food, and she suddenly felt very tired. So much so that she changed into her panties and camisole as though in a daze, before she collapsed into her bed and immediately fell asleep, a soft smile on her face once again.

—

Another morning, another twenty four hours of being suspended without receiving even a single word from Director Graham.

But this morning was a little different. Because she found she didn't care all that much like she had the last few days. In fact, she hadn't cared about anything really when she woke up. She hadn't cared enough to change into her running clothes and go for her typical morning jog along the promenade. She hadn't even cared enough to get out of bed for an entire hour once she'd woken up, instead dozing on and off and reveling in the sunlight warming her back as it seeped into her glass balcony doors only partially covered by the wood shutters.

Eventually, she'd relented around 8, climbing out from the warm cocoon of her sheets and duvet, and finding her way into the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

Fully awake and dry, Sarah shrugged on the sky blue terrycloth robe the hotel provided her with, wearing nothing else under it save a pair of panties because she rather enjoyed how the material felt against her bare skin.

She sat on her balcony with her feet up, reading a mystery novel she'd bought in one of the hotel's gift shops the other day. She found that the melodrama read better in French.

It was probably half past nine when there was a knock on her door.

Figuring it was hotel staff wanting to clean her room, and feeling a little miffed because she specifically remembered hanging the Ne Pas Déranger sign on the door handle, she huffed and climbed to her feet, deciding she could always take the opportunity to order breakfast, or at least coffee.

When she swung open her door, expecting to see one of the hotel workers in their light blue uniforms, she swallowed the polite greeting on the tip of her tongue and simply gaped.

Chuck gaped back, apparently a little distracted by the sight of her in her robe. Silly, really, considering he'd already seen her in a bikini which revealed much, _much_ more.

"Chuck! Hi!" And then she smirked a little when she thought of the condition he'd been in when she left him the night before. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh, right. That. Good. Thanks. Totally cured. I was more than embarrassing last night, and I really apologize for that, but um, luckily I didn't have much of a hangover this morning."

"Good," she said.

He really did look embarrassed at the moment, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she'd actually been charmed by his drunken antics. She'd known angry drunks, tired drunks, amorous drunks. But Chuck Bartowski was simply more himself. And veryfriendly. Perhaps a bit more gutsy. She figured sober Chuck wouldn't have been kissing her neck quite as much as drunk Chuck had last night.

"But I have to admit, um," Chuck stumbled, taking a deep breath. "I'm—Honestly, I remember everything and I feel kind of like I blew it…I fell asleep, you know? Which was," he let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "Well, I woke up and realized…" He shook his head, took her in, and sighed. "Oh, fuck it."

Sarah wasn't prepared for him to step inside, cup her face gently in his hands and kiss her with as much passion as he had the night before, as though the last ten hours didn't exist at all. He _was_ sober now. Maybe the only thing that would've been different about last night were he sober was that he wouldn't have fallen asleep underneath her.

His kiss became more passionate, suddenly, as though he felt her mind going a mile a minute and he needed a way to pull her back in.

It worked.

She gasped, clenching her hands into fists and kissing him back. Until finally she recaptured just a smidgeon of her awareness and wrapped her fingers in the front of his T-shirt, tugging him all the way inside her suite and reaching around him with her other hand to slam the door shut.

Taking the initiative, since his motives for coming down to her room were more than clear now, the assassin pushed him until his back thumped against the door, and she pinned him there, opening her mouth against his and licking along his teeth. He tasted like berries and it was literally intoxicating. So much so that her head began to buzz a little.

Sarah pushed a hand into his hair, feeling that it was just a little damp, as though he'd taken a shower, too. And he'd also shaved, all of this before coming down for a visit…

She quickly pushed that out of her mind, though, because he was here now. And they were continuing where they left off last night, apparently.

Which was everything she hadn't known she needed until she opened the door and saw him standing there, all 6 feet 4 inches of pure sexy nerd. And the way he'd even looked a little uncertain as he stood in the hallway.

She hoped he wasn't uncertain anymore. She couldn't be more certain.

To prove it to him, and to herself, she grabbed both of his shoulders and jumped into his arms, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist and kissing him again, harder this time as he let out a soft growl into her mouth. He caught her so easily, his large hands splayed on her back, and it was such a turn on.

He broke the kiss, dragging his lips and teeth down her jawline, finally tasting her neck, which was his favorite even when he was sober, apparently.

She grinned wildly as he nibbled and sucked, kissing a pattern along to the lapel of the robe and nudging it aside with his face to latch his lips onto her collarbone.

"Oh, Chuck," she whispered, letting her head fall back as far as it would go, allowing herself to just feel him.

Chuck's hands grasped onto her hips and he hoisted her up against him more securely, the movement quick and effective. She could feel him under his pants now. And she was so turned on she thought she might burst before they even got to the bed.

Honestly, any horizontal surface would do.

Something inside of her snapped at that thought and she lowered her chin again, kissing his hair, his forehead, his temples, before pressing her lips to his ear. She whimpered his name and it was like the heat between them burst into full-fledged flames.

Chuck turned his face and caught her lips in a hot kiss. She held onto his head with both hands, tightening her thighs around him. It automatically pushed her groin into his and he growled again.

Her quiet gasp became a sharp yelp of surprise as Chuck purposefully strode across the sitting room in a few long strides, carrying her all the way to the bedroom. She thought he maybe hit his leg on a piece of furniture along the way when he let out a pained grunt, but the kiss never lost any steam, nor did he break his stride. And soon he swung her down, causing her to squeal in surprise, before he deposited her on the bed.

Sarah grabbed hold of his shirt as he started to move away, and she yanked him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist again and linking her ankles to hold him there. He kissed her neck again as she pressed her lips to his hair, focusing on the feeling of his weight on top of her, how good it felt.

She dragged her hands down his muscled back to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to feel his smooth, heated skin. He groaned and she felt his teeth nip at the juncture of her jaw and neck, before he breathed her name.

"Sarah…" It was soft, desperate.

She'd only been known as Sarah Walker for a short time, and it had never really felt like much more than just another name, the one they used at Langley so that she could have a badge to flash during assignments… Until this moment. Suddenly it was as if she'd never wanted to be anyone as much as she wanted to be the Sarah this man knew. The Sarah who was pinned underneath this sturdy, _real_ man.

Sarah began tugging at his shirt more sincerely this time, dragging it up his back, trying to get it off of him. Picking up on the cue, Chuck tilted his torso away from her and divested himself of the shirt in one swift movement. She didn't see or care where it ended up, because he was a lot more fit than she'd known underneath the T-shirts and suit she'd seen him wear before.

He lowered himself onto her again, pushing his arms under her body and embracing her again. Keeping one arm around her waist, he hoisted her off of the mattress and leaned down to grab the sheets of her unmade bed, pulling them down and out of the way.

She couldn't hold in a deep giggle as she buried her face in his neck, kissing his skin there repeatedly until he put her back on the bed. Feeling mischievous, she kept her legs wrapped around his waist when he made to step back from the bed, and she earned a flat look, even as there was still a lot of desire swirling in his brown eyes.

He wrapped his fingers around her ankles and slowly slid them up her calves to her knees, before going back to her ankles. The look in his eyes was just… _mmmm_.

Then he pulled her legs away from him and gently set them down, stepping back to unbutton and unzip his jeans.

Sarah felt a thrill go through her at watching him push them down his legs, the way he did it all with such precision, so slowly…

But as he tried to step out of his jeans, his foot must have caught in them and he tipped forward, falling on top of her.

She yelped. And then she laughed uproariously at him as he chuckled and shook his head, burying his face in the terrycloth robe that was slowly coming apart in all the activity. He must have realized it just as she did, and he didn't even give her the chance to sober up a little before he nuzzled his face in the robe and opened it further, until she felt his lips against her bare abdomen.

Sucking in a breath through her teeth, Sarah couldn't stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head as she moaned quietly. Biting her lip, she lifted her head to look down at him as he teased her muscled abs with his lips and tongue. When he set his focus on her belly button, she moaned again, reaching down to bury the fingers of one hand in his hair.

Chuck dragged his lips up the center of her ribcage, gently reaching up to ease the robe aside and reveal her breasts to him. She watched as he swallowed thickly, his amber gaze burning as he stared at her chest, before his eyes lifted to meet hers.

How easily one look from him could make her toes curl.

Without looking away, he lowered his mouth to one of her soft mounds. He applied pressure with his tongue as he sucked along the top, around the side, and down to the bottom. Sarah let out a long breath as he draped his other hand over her other breast, massaging it and rubbing his thumb over her nipple. He finally wrapped his lips around her other nipple and sucked gently, flicking it with his tongue.

He spent what felt like both an eternity and not enough time on her breasts.

It was so good, and by the time he moved up to bestow her lips with his kiss, there was an ache between her legs only one thing could satisfy. She pushed her torso up against his, working to release her arms from the robe, arching her ass off of the bed to tug the terrycloth garment out from under her and toss it out of the way.

Chuck helped her, even as he nibbled on her jaw.

With the robe gone, she fell back to the sheets and tugged him down, wanting to feel his weight against her again. She felt surprisingly safe under Chuck, when before this feeling had been cause for caution, if not total alarm. She wasn't sure she'd ever been in a more vulnerable position. And yet, she was reveling in it, even whimpering in pleasure.

Although that might have something to do with Chuck's hand stroking her thigh. He pulled her leg up, the angle pushing their hips together, and he even rocked into her, letting out a soft breath in her ear.

Oh God, she thought to herself, opening her mouth in pleasure as he rolled his hips into hers again.

That was it. No more foreplay.

She scooted out from under him, pulling herself up to the headboard and lying back to drape herself over the bed in the proper direction. He followed eagerly, lowering his weight against her again and it felt even better with the pillow under her head, her legs spread on the mattress to make room for his lithe body.

When she felt his fingers slide under the waistband of her panties at her hip, she let out a long sigh of his name, turning her face to kiss him. As their tongues met, his fingers rounded to her front, teasing the waistband a little, before he slid his hand over the material to cup her sex. He gave her a squeeze and she whimpered, pulling her face back to bite her lip. "Oh God, Chuck," she said under her breath, her voice a little strangled. He squeezed her again and she gasped a lusty "Yes!" against his lips.

He shifted his weight again, lying directly on top of her, his cock lined up with her sex. With nothing but her panties and his boxers between them, she felt his hardness acutely as he rolled his hips against her a few times.

Sarah let her head fall back, squirming underneath him and curling her fingers around his biceps, holding on while he thrusted. He was a God damn masterpiece when it came to foreplay.

But she needed him inside of her.

Before she could vocalize her need, he shifted off of her, shoving his boxers down his legs and kicking them over the edge of the bed, making quick work of her panties as well as she arched herself up to help him.

She barely had time to register what he looked like without a shed of clothing on, to admire him, and follow where those delicious trails of hair led, because he was back on top of her and his fingers were wedged between their bodies, sliding down her front, and finally teasing her entrance.

Sarah tilted her head back with a whimper, gritting her teeth, holding onto his arms, rolling her hips up against his touch.

As good as it felt, as lost as she was in the sensations, Sarah found herself in awe of how thoughtful he was. He was making sure she was ready for him before taking her the way she wanted him to. And as he pulled his fingers away, he shifted his weight up her body a little and she felt the head of his cock at her entrance. Yes, yes, yes, her mind was saying as she looked up into his face.

He dove down to kiss her again, and as he did, she felt him enter her oh so slowly. Just an inch at a time, gently. Almost too gently. Her entire body was thrumming. She ached for more.

Sarah slapped her hands over the small of his back, massaging his muscles before dragging them down to grab his ass, squeezing and tugging to sheathe him deep inside of her.

"Ohhh, God," he groaned breathlessly, his lips at her temple.

Thank God Chuck was good at picking up on her cues, for he began to move against her immediately, bracing himself with his elbows digging into the mattress on either side of her body.

She whined his name, wrapping her arms around his torso and bending her knees beside his hips. She dug her heels in and met his strokes, dragging a hand up through his hair. "Oh yes, _yes_ , Chuck!" she gasped.

This was so good.

Sarah made her mind a blank, just concentrating on every last sensation.

Every stroke filled her so perfectly, lifting her ass off of the mattress.

There was no other sound in the room except for their heavy breathing, and her soft whimpers at the feeling of him inside of her.

She'd never been all that verbal during sex. There was no point. It always seemed like such a ridiculous porno ploy, something to give the man ego. Like he was the greatest thing on the planet. Why go out of her way to sing praises to a man who was nothing but a way to get out a little adrenaline?

But without thinking about it, she started gasping encouragement. Hissing in pleasure, whimpering in ecstasy, his name on her lips. And when he shifted a little lower, his cock sliding against her g-spot as he thrusted himself up into her again, she cursed under her breath.

"Oh, that's it," she panted in a whisper. And then she found her voice, whining, "That's it, Chuck. Oh _yes_ , that's it!"

He responded with a whimper of her name, repeating what she praised him for over and over again. Even in the midst of passionate sex, he was listening to her, paying attention to her wants and needs. That was sexier than anything else she'd ever experienced in the bedroom.

And when she reached down to squeeze his ass again, feeling his muscles clench with each rocking movement, Chuck let out a choking gasp of her name, burying his face in her hair and lowering himself from his elbows, shoving his hands under her body to grab her backside as well.

Chuck lost his slow, powerful rhythm and he quickened his pace, using his grip on her ass to yank her into his thrusts. She cried out and clung to him, pressing her face into his hair and wrapping her legs around his waist.

The assassin found she'd lost all semblance of control.

No, in fact, she hadn't lost it. She'd given it willingly to him.

She'd never done that before, and here she did it without a second thought, surrendering every part of herself to him as though it was second nature to her. When it was anything _but_ second nature throughout her entire life.

She did her best not to dwell on that, focusing on the here and now. And it was a good thing, too, because Chuck had propped himself up over her again, his weight on his elbows, his thrusts rhythmic and hard once more. But then she saw his hand begin to slide up towards the pillow her head rested upon, and in that split second, she remembered her safety precaution—a precaution that became a nightly ritual years ago when she'd been found out by a mark and he snuck into her hotel room in an attempt to smother her to death with a pillow. Ever since then, she'd kept a knife beneath the pillow she slept on, always prepared for an attack.

The knife was there now.

Of course Chuck wasn't a danger to her. He was looking for a way to brace himself. But if he felt that knife, what the hell sort of woman would he think she was? Not the sort of woman who was a translator on a much needed vacation.

Thinking fast, even with the blissful fog that dulled her mind, Sarah threw her weight to the side and flipped them over with Chuck ending up on his back, his hands up beside his head, his eyes wide as he let out a breathy, "Whoa!"

His surprise became an explosive grin as she straddled him, sitting in his lap. She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and dove back into the spirit of things as though she hadn't just been inches away from being found out. She began to roll her hips into his lap.

Sarah started with a frenzied pace, grabbing his wrists and pinning them over his head as she rode him fast and hard. It fit with how desperate she'd been swinging him onto his back. This way, he'd just think she was a control freak, or maybe a wildcat in bed, or something that _wasn't_ a CIA assassin.

She could deal with those first things. But she didn't want him to know about that last thing. Ever.

By the look on his face, she didn't think she had to worry about it.

"Oh, Sarah!"

Chuck's gaze was fastened on where they were joined, watching her fast movements, his eyelids fluttering. He did nothing to hide the way she was making him feel, showing quite plainly on his face how good it felt, letting out soft whimpers, groaning. His eyes feasting on the sight of her above him.

Sarah didn't slow down for awhile, using her entire body to give him pleasure, letting him know in turn just how good he felt.

And then Chuck began to arch himself into her, meeting her stroke for stroke, making it a little easier on her and intensifying the sensations.

After some time, her limbs starting to ache a little, Sarah let go of one of his wrists and slammed her hand onto the headboard of her bed, holding it tightly as she bounced on Chuck's cock, letting her head fall back and looking up at the ceiling. "Oh Chuuuck," she moaned, feeling his hand close over one of her breasts and squeeze.

She could feel her climax building now, that delicious ache between her legs, flooding up into her lower belly, tightening.

Chuck's jaw was clenched as he looked down his body again.

She moved the hand that wasn't holding onto the bed for dear life to feel the hair on his chest, teasing his pecks and nipples, switching from bouncing to swinging her hips back and forth and riding him again.

He surprised her then when he sat up, their chests crashing together, and he scooted back a little, closer to the headboard, rounding the small of her back with one arm and holding onto her thigh with the other. Then he lifted her leg as he kissed her lips. This time, it was Sarah's turn to pick up on his cues, and she obeyed his silent request, moving her legs out behind him, bending her knees, and pressing her feet against the bed.

Sarah kept hold of the headboard, rounding his shoulders with her other arm. She cried out in ecstasy as Chuck gyrated his hips up into hers.

"Chuck…" She moaned into his ear.

Pressing her hips down to meet his thrusts, she threw her head back when their bodies began to rock back and forth together.

She was on the edge of an orgasm. She could feel it, and she was doing her best to brace for it. Somehow she knew it would be intense. "I'm almost there, Chuck," she whimpered. "I'm almost there."

A deep groan seemed to be all he was capable of, before she felt him move his hand between them. And then he had two fingers pressed against her clitoris and he was rubbing it vigorously as he arched himself up from the bed and into her softness.

"Oh!"

She climaxed, her entire body clenching, tensing, that feeling of an electric shock zipping through her body, up and down her arms and legs, the ecstasy pooling directly in her center. "Oh, God," she gasped. "Chuck!"

The way he was touching her, his fingers pressed against her, still thrusting inside of her except much more gently this time, was making her orgasm last longer.

She whimpered into his ear.

That was when she felt his body tighten against hers, his hardness seeming to almost vibrate for a moment, before he made one last hard thrust up into her and she felt his warm seed spill inside of her. She moaned his name and tugged on his hair a little, gyrating against him gracefully to take everything he had to offer.

When they finally stilled, Sarah let out a deep breath, her shoulders sagging, and she pulled her face back from where she'd buried it in his hair to look down at him. His eyes were shut, his face set in awe, his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink that matched his chest and shoulders from the exertion.

And when he finally opened his eyes, looking up into her face, his smile was quite nearly her undoing. For the second time that morning.

He let out an incredibly satisfied groan that originated deep in his chest. And then he dropped his gaze between their bodies to where his fingers were still pressed against her clitoris. She didn't mind it, but he quickly pulled his hand away with a slightly sheepish look on his face, instead holding her by her waist and burying his face in her neck.

She scooted a little closer to hug him, simply reveling in how it felt to be tangled up with him. She had never done anything this intimate. Granted, she'd never fused with any other partner the way she had with Chuck. Like they'd _actually_ become one entity.

Sarah giggled softly as she realized how _corny_ that sounded. Like they'd become one entity? She was officially banned from reading any more of those cheesy historical romance novels.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, stroking a hand down her hair.

She leaned back to look him in the face and nearly scoffed at him. "Okay probably isn't the best word to describe how I am right now," she said, shaking her head at how breathless she still sounded. She was practically panting. She hummed, hugging him again and pressing her face into his hair.

He simply hugged her back and they stayed that way for awhile, prompting Sarah to wonder at the fact that she'd never _cuddled_ before. And she'd never let a man stay inside of her for longer than was purely necessary, that was for sure. The continued connection, any amount of intimacy outside of getting pleasure, was never anything she needed or sought.

And here she was wrapped up in this man's arms—a man she'd only met a few days ago—wondering if she could perhaps justify staying like this for the rest of the day.

It was madness.

Logic demanded that she pull away and get dressed, order breakfast, do _something_ that wasn't this _intimate_. But she didn't want to be logical. For the first time since she could remember, she didn't need logic right now. Logic kept her safe. It protected her from letting her guard down, from getting hurt. It kept her from being vulnerable.

But she didn't need any of that.

She felt safe here. And she was perfectly content to let his arms be her only protection.

Sarah Walker was too caught up in Chuck Bartowski to worry about anything else but the here and now. She didn't even think about how dangerous it was for her to wave away the precautions, the safeguards, the walls she kept up for most of her life.

For just this moment, she only thought about him.

* * *

Well, _that_ escalated slowly and deliciously.

'Til next time!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	6. Two Pina Coladas Please

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** I think I might have the best readers on the planet.

That is all.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK, nor am I the master of its characters. Also I don't make money from writing this which is fine.

* * *

Chapter 6: **_Two Piña Coladas Please_**

Sarah peered over the rim of her coffee cup at Chuck as he attempted to read the back of her mystery novel, his nose and forehead wrinkled, his hair mussed from the paths her fingers had made in it. She smirked to herself, deciding his whole person looked incredibly mussed.

But he also looked as relaxed and satisfied as she felt.

He reached over to pick up his own cup and brought it to his lips, sipping it. "Black", he'd said when she asked what he liked in his coffee. "I like my coffee like I like my life. Pristine. Untainted." And then he'd laughed at himself when she rolled her eyes.

For her part, Sarah enjoyed her cream and sugar filled dishonest coffee…even if it _did_ mirror her own dishonest existence.

She pushed aside the thought that she was, at this moment, being dishonest with Chuck. That she'd been dishonest with him since the beginning.

Because she liked him a lot.

And she liked this.

Just sitting here and enjoying the breeze on her balcony, chatting, having a late breakfast after continuing to have really amazing sex for a solid hour and a half.

"Amazing" probably didn't do that time they spent in her bed justice. Mind blowing was getting closer. Life-altering, even better.

She didn't care about the vocabulary, because she could still feel it when she closed her eyes and relaxed. His lips on her skin, his hands grappling at her body, fingers digging into her hips, his weight on top of her, and his hips crushed between her thighs. If she really concentrated, she could even feel the sensation of him inside of her.

She had to be careful, though, because if she thought too hard about that, he might catch her blush. And the way her toes curled against the cement of the railing her feet were currently propped against.

"Okay, so this novel sounds interesting."

Thank God he broke into her thoughts right then.

"It's in French," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I know, but the way the words look next to each other…just…really nice."

She laughed and made to swipe the book from him, but he had fast reflexes and he pulled it out of her reach, raising his eyebrows innocently at her as she faux-glared.

"What's it about?" he asked.

"A taxi driver drops a young woman off at this house up on a hill, and he hears some screaming when she goes in, so he goes to investigate and the house is abandoned, boarded up, nobody inside, nobody anywhere around. So he goes to the police and it turns out this girl he describes, the name he gives, is actually one of their recent missing persons. They suspect him but don't have the evidence to arrest him. Basically it's about him and this investigator friend of his trying to figure out where she went to clear his name and…yeah." She shrugged. "It's alright."

"Well, that actually sounds really interesting. But here's the thing…The name Vernon?" He tapped the name on the summary on the back. "Vernon. Not the coolest protagonist name ever, I gotta say."

She pursed her lips. "Says the man named _Chuck_."

"Hey, noww," he said, pointing at her with her own book, chuckling in spite of himself, "That's different. I'm not the protagonist of a mystery novel. And anyways, my real name is Charles. And Charles is the _perfect_ mystery protagonist name. So ha!"

She watched him for a moment, smiling. "Charles, huh?"

"Yep."

"So why Chuck?"

He put the book down on the table and sat up a little straighter, grabbing his croissant and taking a hearty bite out of it instead of peeling at the flaky crust like she was doing. "Ellie always called me Chuck. And it caught on. Only my parents really ever called me Charles."

And the name Charles was probably a little bitter sounding to him considering how his parents had run out on him and his sister. It all made sense. She made sure her face wasn't pitying or even sympathetic as she met his gaze. "I see. Well, for the record, it's fun teasing you about your name, but I actually like it. I like the way it feels when I say it. Chuck."

Granted, she was thinking about the sensations that went along with her saying Chuck when they were in the midst of a particularly passionate tumble in the sheets not an hour earlier, but still…Chuck was a cute name. It fit him.

"Not as good as something French, though. Like Jacque. Or, uh…um…Pierre."

Sarah giggled and shook her head. "François doesn't really go with Bartowski."

Something deep inside of her danced when he laughed, the breeze playing with the curls on top of his head. "I always liked Rémy for a name. I think Rémy would make me sound trés chic. Classy. Debonair. What d'you think?"

"Rémy Bartowski, huh? Eh."

"So I should just stick with Chuck, then, is what you're saying…"

She giggled again. "I think so."

"Yeeeeah, you're probably right. I'm used to it. Nice and quick. One syllable. What about you?"

"Me?" She leaned her head back onto the chair and rolled it to the side to look at him. "What about me?"

"Your name. Sarah. I think it's the perfect name for you."

She snorted, pulling her robe a bit tighter over her chest as it shifted. "Pretty sure no other name is as boring as mine. Sarah Walker. How many people in the world have that exact same name, do you think?" It was why Graham had given it to her. She remembered thinking the same thing when he handed her the badge the very first time a couple of years ago. It was her second badge and second name with the CIA. Well, second _official_ name with the CIA. She'd assumed too many identities to count since she first joined as a teenager.

And yet…

The smile on his face as she groused about her name made it feel better than any other name she'd ever had.

"Sarah Walker? I don't think it's so bad. Like I said, it suits you. Bet it suits you better than any other woman named Sarah Walker."

She was curious. "Why? I mean, how?"

"In Hebrew, it means princess." She scoffed and he chuckled at her. "Don't like that?"

"I am _not_ a princess, thanks."

"It could also be translated to mean noblewoman," he said with a shrug. She paused and let that wash over her, smirking a little. "You like that better, huh?"

She giggled. "I might. Yes."

"I honestly don't know why I said it fits you, it just…feels like it does." He smiled kindly.

"Well, then…I'll let you have it." She wrinkled her nose at him and watched as he softened significantly, melting into his chair.

Sarah took a deep breath and let the sun beat down on her face from above. It felt amazing, even if the morning breeze was a little cooler than was altogether comfortable. But after what they'd just done to one another, the cool air had been welcome as they set up on her balcony. "God, I could just sit in this perfect weather for an entire year and be totally fine with it," she breathed, smiling softly to herself and letting her eyes slip shut.

"Oh noooo."

Her eyes popped open and she sat up a bit straighter, looking at him. "What?"

"Are my conversation skills that awful?" She blinked at him, frowning in confusion. "You're talking about the weather now. You must've really run out of things to say to me—ow! Hey!" He rubbed his arm where her small paperback book hit him after she quickly lowered her feet to the cold floor and reached over to whap him one.

"Stop that," she chastised, pointing. But she smiled at him still, letting him know she was teasing as much as he was. He was so easy to banter with. And she thought that by now she knew how far she could and couldn't go with him.

Or maybe she was giving herself too much credit because she was comfortable with him.

There was a knock then, distant but very crisp, at her door. She looked at Chuck and whined, squirming a little further into her padded chair and pouting in his direction.

"What, you want me to get it?"

She smiled.

"It's not even my room," he laughed, standing up anyways.

"But it _is_ your food."

"And yours." The knock sounded again.

"But you're dressed."

She had simply thrown on the robe again, picking it up from the floor where they'd kicked it during a particularly frenzied session at the foot of the bed. Whereas Chuck had put his jeans and T-shirt back on.

He made a face and then meandered back inside, through her bedroom and out to get their actual breakfast. She stood up and put their coffee and croissants back on the silver tray, carrying it all back inside and out of the sun, joining him in the main room just as he shut the door and pointed over his shoulder with a flick of his thumb. "So I found a pair of earrings on your dresser and gave them to him for a tip since my wallet seems to have fallen out of my pocket at some point."

She laughed, knowing he was lying since she saw him slip his wallet into his pocket as she came into the room. He grinned and gestured to the cart the waiter must have just wheeled in.

"Your breakfast awaits, Your Highness." He bowed deeply at the waist. She knew he was referring to the meaning of her name, like they'd just discussed a few minutes earlier and she gave him the stinkeye. "Shall I taste it first to make sure it isn't laced with poison?"

Before she could say anything, he hoisted the silver dome away from the food and grabbed a sizzling potato, popping it into his mouth. It was apparently hot, as his eyes widened and he tried to blow on it while it was in his mouth.

"So it _is_ poison?" she asked with a straight face. And then she laughed and hurried to his side, picking up the glass of grapefruit juice and handing it to him.

Chuck took a swig and sighed, then made a face. "Coffee and grapefruit juice. Oh lord, that's a no-no. Mmm, nope. Yucky." He finished it off with a shiver.

She huffed in amusement. "Well, it's good for me, so…" She took the glass and downed half of it, licking her lips. "Mmmm."

"Huh. If I'd known you were a coffee plus grapefruit juice woman, I probably wouldn't have—"

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and tugged him in, kissing him hard, knowing exactly where he'd intended on going with his teasing. When she pulled her lips back slowly, she looked up into his face, admiring her handiwork as his eyelids fluttered and his lips stayed pursed. She pecked his lips one more time and smirked. "Wouldn't have what?"

"I forgot."

Laughing, she uncovered the rest of the food, and wheeled it over to the table at the end of the room, setting it up for them as Chuck popped the champagne open and poured it into the glasses. "This is one of those hair of the dog moments for me, yeah?"

She peered over at the way he was looking at the champagne, holding the flute up in front of his face and wincing. She chuckled and shook her head. "Not if you weren't all that hungover to begin with. And anyways, it's a mimosa. That doesn't count as alcohol."

"Oh, it doesn't?" he laughed. "Well, okay then. You know a billion languages, so I'll trust you."

Seemed to her that number got bigger every time he brought it up, she thought to herself in amusement.

They ate in comfortable silence and Sarah mused at the fact that this was the third meal they'd eaten together in a row. When she'd gone over ten years at the very least eating all of her meals completely alone. She'd always preferred it that way.

And suddenly this was what she preferred. Chuck went down really well with food. And the sexual innuendo of that thought made her blush.

Luckily Chuck didn't seem to notice, as he was busy scooping at Hollandaise sauce with his muffin.

The meal went by quickly, as they were both ravenous, and Sarah felt a little bereft when Chuck announced that he was headed off to meet with his sister and her fiancé.

"I can't completely abandon them, after all. They'd wonder if I was abducted. Or even adopted. I mean, it's me. After all."

She laughed as they walked to the door, and Chuck pushed the cart out into the hallway for the staff to pick up, turning back to face her.

"Uhhhh…" He rubbed the back of his head a little shyly.

Sarah could understand his current predicament, since she was embroiled in it as well at the moment. They'd just had a lot of sex and breakfast. What were they supposed to say now as they broke off to their own lives?

Thanks for the sex and breakfast.

Enjoy the perfect French Riviera climate.

She could see him walking out of her suite, disappearing down the hallway, and she'd remember last night and this morning years later as the best time of her life. Or something equally depressing as she thought of the years of being alone that lie ahead for her.

"Can I see you again?" she heard herself ask instead. "I want to see you again."

And she was a bit surprised to find that she wasn't berating herself for saying that. It was completely true. The only way it would be more true was if she'd instead said she _needed_ to see him again.

There was no way she was strong enough to put a stop to this now. In this moment. Looking at him standing here in his shirt that had DC Comics scrawled across it. He was just so endearing. And damn it all, he was so hot. Sexy, even. She felt a little privileged that this self-proclaimed nerd had bestowed upon her some legitimately impressive talents and techniques, something so many women missed out on where he was concerned.

No, she couldn't cut him loose just yet.

It was too soon after the feelings he'd awakened in her. The ecstasy was all too fresh in her mind, in her body.

"That would be fantastic," he said immediately. "Can we please do that? Yes." And then he put his hands on either side of the doorframe, looking very tall and imposing…without being intimidating in the slightest. It was strangely erotic. "Dinner? Tomorrow?"

She nodded and shrugged cutely. "Sounds perfect."

"Casual, this time. Maybe someplace without wine. Just a thought."

Sarah laughed and agreed, pleasantly sidetracked from everything else when he caught her lips in a quick, lovely kiss.

"See ya."

She watched him go, sighing like an absolute idiot when he looked back over his shoulder to give her one of his beaming grins. And then he turned the corner and she ducked back into her suite, shutting the door and letting out the longest, most achingly satisfied moan she ever heard come from her mouth. She thumped her head against the door and sighed again, unable to kill the grin that was just about hurting her face it was so big.

Was sex supposed to be that good?

Better question. Was a singular human being supposed to be that good?

At the very least, make the thoughtful, sweet, kind, funny, dreamy, adorable, intelligent man suck in the sack.

But no.

He had turned her world on its head a handful of times this morning, in a handful of different ways. Not that it was a one-sided thing. She'd been at her best, as well. He'd made herwant to work harder, be better, and the result was…well, unspeakable. Frankly.

She giggled rather maniacally as she practically danced across the room and flopped onto the chaise, simply lying there with one arm falling limply off the side, the other hand playing with the tie of her robe.

And she must have stayed there for over an hour, just letting her mind go blank, not even spending a single millisecond thinking about work or the future, or anything really. Except the last few hours of her life. Reliving it over and over and over.

She was only human, after all.

—

The moonlight glittered off of the dark Mediterranean waters that stretched as far as the eye could see. One lone yacht was anchored about a mile or so away, the light sparkling on the black horizon. Last night's full moon had meant no moon tonight, which was just as well, considering a cloud cover had moved in a few hours earlier.

It made the air a bit chillier than the lone figure walking along the rocky beach had anticipated. She huddled herself up a bit tighter in her cotton knit wrap and kept walking, glad she at least had the wherewithal to put shoes on. Else the rocks at her feet would've been freezing as well as painful.

And the six year old version of her had learned a hard lesson walking barefoot at night outside when a piece of glass got wedged into her heel. That experience had stayed with her all this time, 20 years later.

Sarah sighed and pushed some of the hair that had escaped her loose ponytail away from her face. The wind was picking up, probably because a storm was on its way. But that didn't make her turn around and go back. Instead she continued on.

She always thought better when she was moving. Lying on her back all day, lounging, watching French soap operas, eating, reading…none of it had made for an appropriate thinking environment. So after she ate a nice dinner out in a cozy corner of a small, casual restaurant she found about a mile's walk down the promenade, Sarah decided to walk back on the beach for awhile. Because she had a lot to think about, and she couldn't put it off again.

Langston Graham had still not called her or sent her an email. He hadn't done anythingto get in contact with her. She was on the verge of caving and calling him.

It wasn't a pride situation, although her pride was a bit injured. The fact was that she never called him or anyone else unless she was directly in the middle of a case, reporting in, getting a dossier, receiving her orders. To call him now would be silly.

At the very least, it would make her look desperate.

And strangely enough, she wasn't desperate. Not even a little.

She didn't feel that aching need to get on the road, to jet off somewhere else and go on the hunt. Her trigger finger wasn't itching. Her head wasn't where it usually was when she finished a job. Nor was her heart.

Her work had been the only thing that made the world turn for so long. Every day she woke up, got out of bed, ran, ate, did research…she did whatever she could for that next mission. To be the best. To do some good in the world. Hopefully.

Who was she kidding? Doing good in the world wasn't a part of her job. She'd fooled herself into thinking that for a little while maybe. When they'd first set her down this path, purposefully put a rifle in her hand, and taught her to shoot it. But she was smart enough to see through the bullshit before she even hit 21.

She was an assassin. And definitely not a hero.

At least, she didn't see herself as one. Graham liked to finish off their debriefs with things like "You did good work, Walker" or whatever her name happened to be at the time. Or maybe something like, "Many people will go on to have regular, full lives thanks to you." And recently, she silently started tacking on, "But at least one person won't go on to do anything, because they're dead."

The amount of times she'd thought about the people she killed, the blood she had on her hands, the lives she'd stolen, people with families. Granted, some of them definitely _were_ bad people. Bad people had wives, husbands, sisters, brothers, children, parents, and friends. That didn't make them any less crooked, murderous, or violent. But that feeling of playing executioner, putting them down because someone sitting in an office told her to…it made her sick some days when she let herself think about it enough.

She simply didn't want that feeling anymore. And she didn't want to wonder whether the person she'd killed actually deserved it. It was hard not to think that some of the people she'd killed hadn't been as bad as she'd been led to believe. She'd had to made a mistake at some point. Graham, the CIA…they made mistakes. And with all of the lives she'd taken, there had to be a few…

Graham would never tell her if they'd made a mistake. What was the point of telling her? It was a probability thing. Some of them were probably innocent. Or at least, not bad enough to warrant a bullet going through their brain, the poison lacing their whiskey…or that time she'd had her gun knocked from her hand…the way the hilt of the knife was wet and slippery in her grip with the amount of blood that had come from her victim when she pushed the blade under his ribcage.

The resulting nightmares…

She didn't want these things on her conscience anymore. Not that leaving this business meant it would all be automatically swiped clean. It would always be a part of her. But maybe she just didn't want to add anything else to the list of fucked up things that were a part of her existence, a part of her past.

Maybe that was all she wanted the CIA to be now.

Her past.

The more distance was forced between her and her work, the more she started to realize maybe she didn't want it anymore. But did she still _need_ it?

And that was the real crux of the problem, wasn't it?

What would she even _do_ without orders? Without missions? Without the money the agency shelled out for her expenses? Would she have the same will to survive in regular every day situations? Did she even need that will to survive in every day situations? She didn't know. She didn't know a lot about living like a regular person, like a human, in real life human situations.

The stuff she'd seen in movies, in the romantic comedies she caught on TV late at night when she couldn't sleep.

Like bumping into someone and spilling coffee everywhere right before an important meeting with an important client. Your dog climbing onto the counter and eating the pie you'd made the night before. Going on awkward dates, meeting up with your friend the next day and commiserating.

She had no problem watching that stuff from under the covers of her bed. But God, she had no clue whether any of that . . . whether she would ever deserve those normal things. She didn't even really know if she could handle normal things.

When had she been given the chance to be anything other than deadly? Even before she was an assassin, she was a con artist. And before that, a miniature con artist—a con artist's daughter. Or maybe it was more apt to call her a con artist's prop. That was really what she ended up being.

She was too fucked up in too many ways.

Whether it had been her father who sent her down this path or Graham…or herself…She was too dangerous to take out of the CIA. Too dangerous to be let loose in the world, after everything she'd seen and done.

Could Sarah Walker find a way to live a regular life? Amongst normal people? Without seeing everybody as a mark? Without being paranoid that someone had pegged her and she had a target on her back or something?

And then she stopped in her tracks, because she was already answering some of those questions for herself, wasn't she?

Chuck was a regular person, and she hadn't been paranoid about him. She hadn't once seen him as a mark, save for that instantaneous first impression that dissipated within seconds.

Maybe he was an exception to human beings—and he truly was exceptional—but she had felt like she could be completely and totally herself with him. She hadn't hesitated a moment in telling him about her father. Of course, she hadn't told him the _whole_ truth. But she'd told him more than she'd ever told anyone else. No one in the agency besides Graham even knew she had a father.

Was Chuck her gateway? Her transition?

The thing—or perhaps _person_ was a better word—that helped her ease herself back into regular society?

Did she deserve to be back in regular society?Sarah sincerely wasn't all too sure about that. Considering the way she'd led her life up until now.

But she was willing to try.

The assassin wanted to live past what she saw through her rifle's scope. She wanted a life of her own, without 100 different cover identities, without taking orders, without looking over her shoulder every minute of every day. At least she wanted to _try_ a normal existence. With normal, everyday, commonplace things.

Maybe it was going too far to say she wanted boring. She didn't want boring. She wanted excitement. She wanted what had happened this morning.

Chuck showing up out of the blue to finish what they'd started the night before. It was invigorating. Pure ecstasy. It was better and more exciting and tantalizing than anything she'd ever done as an assassin. It was just sex—and yet it was so much more. It was everything.

And the more she thought about what all of it could mean, the less attached she felt to the path she had been walking contentedly enough before she was sent to Nice for what may very well end up being…her last mission.

Why continue being the CIA's top assassin if she wasn't happy? Just to punish herself for all of the sins of her past?

There was still so much for her to work out. And as she felt the soft drops of mist against her face—the precursor to actual rain—she hurried the rest of the way to her hotel. She still had a lot of thinking to do, but she'd have to do it inside.

—

She saw him the moment he walked into the lobby, and it said a lot about how much she liked and trusted him already that she didn't immediately want to hide. Any time she recognized someone, in this line of business—and truthfully in her life, since her work and her life were so intertwined—it was a bad thing. It was someone coming after her. Or it was someone Graham sent to give her a message. And in that case, she had to hide, give herself the upper hand, watch them for awhile just to make sure…

But that wasn't the case with Chuck. Her first impulse was to leap to her feet, cross to intercept him at the desk where he was headed, and just…She didn't know. If he were a mark, she'd charm him a little. She'd be smooth and a little shy if that fit their dossier. But he wasn't a mark. He was a man she genuinely liked. And she was at a loss. What would she say?

What reason did she even have for accosting him right now?

It didn't matter that they were going to dinner again tonight. She hadn't seen him since yesterday morning and she…missed him? No, no, no. It wasn't that. She still had the sensations from yesterday morning's tryst at the forefront of her mind. That was what truly good sex probably did to people. And before Chuck, she decided she hadn't had truly great sex.

She'd had good sex before, sure, but yesterday morning had been…Well, lengthy, invigorating, and energizing at the same time as exhausting. It was a lot of things that she really couldn't even describe when she thought about it. And damn, had she thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it some more.

And now those sensations that were still so fresh in her mind and body were making her think things that weren't true when she saw him standing there. She was having faux-emotions.

You're an assassin, she thought to herself. You're a killer. A murderer. A spy. Keep your head on straight, damn it.

Instead of racing across the lobby, embracing him, and recreating a scene from a really sappy made-for-TV romance movie, she picked up the nearby copy of Nice-Matin someone had left lying on the coffee table and she opened it, peeking over the top to watch him.

She felt like a silly private investigator in some silly show. Like Pink Panther or something.

But she kept watching him as he spoke to the concierge. He was just so friendly, pulling his wallet out, discussing something with the comely young woman helping him. She couldn't hear the conversation as he passed the money over to her.

But as the concierge took his money, she grinned widely at him.

Sarah felt jealousy prick at her heart for just a moment, but then she quickly brushed it aside, feeling ridiculous. What did she even have to be jealous over? She barely knew this guy. The concierge was being friendly, and hell, Chuck made a fantastic impression, his charm and attractiveness spilling over you like a waterfall of warm water, practically knocking you straight onto your ass.

If the pretty French girl wanted to grin at him, who was Sarah to begrudge her?

It was the sex. It had to be the sex.

Sex did things to a person's psyche. Especially really, really, really amazing sex like what she and Chuck'd had yesterday morning. It had the ability to turn a person into an absolute monster. A green-eyed monster as the case might be, depending on the person. It made a person see an attachment where maybe there wasn't one. An emotional attachment.

She didn't want to be that way.

She couldn't afford to be that way.

And this was the second time she'd had to remind herself in just the last minute.

Chuck Bartowski was obviously an extraordinary man. Heads above any other man (or woman) she had ever met. Both figuratively and literally. He was so deliciously tall. Not that his height mattered at all when they were horizontal.

Sarah felt heat from her collar and swallowed thickly. It had been over a day since she'd slept with him and this was still happening. What ever happened to the Ice Queen? Had she thawed under the gentle, passionate touch of a nerd who had a successful company that made _video games_ , of all things?

Or was the thawing something that had begun even before she met Chuck?

She was both excited about dinner and nervous. She couldn't wait to have that normalcy back, to feel comfortable and relaxed, to laugh and giggle and smile, to feel the sincere warmth emanating from him. And for the most part not having to worry about what she did or what she said.

At the same time, she couldn't help wanting to drop all of it and disappear again. Change hotels, cross town, and stay away. Hide. For his sake…and for hers. It was way too easy to lose herself in him, and she didn't want him affecting a decision that plotted the rest of her life.

It was just good conversation and even better sex. That was all this was between them.

And damn her selfishness, but she wanted more of it.

She had to wait until tonight, though. To see if it would be the same as it was before. Maybe it was just a one time thing. She would wait, she decided, still watching him.

It would be strange to just waltz up to him now that he was walking away from the concierge, his business with her done for now apparently. And Sarah didn't miss the way the concierge's eyes lingered on him for a little longer than was probably necessary.

Again, Sarah really couldn't blame the woman. Chuck had that sort of effect on people. She knew this firsthand.

Sarah watched Chuck until she couldn't see him anymore, figuring he was probably on his way to his room. Or maybe he would be spending time with his sister and her fiancé before dinner. Did they know about her, she wondered? Had he told them? Or was he keeping her a secret?

Would he continue to keep her a secret until this thing came to its inevitable end?

She did her best not to think about that. But then those last two words kept repeating in her head, following her as she went out to the pool and sat at the bar. _Inevitable end. Inevitable end._

Sarah drank her piña colada a little faster than was prudent, ending up with a painful brain freeze that made her wince.

"Brain freeze?"

She nearly jumped, turning to look at the man who came to sit beside her. He was in his mid-thirties, toned, with a hint of a Southern accent. He wasn't bad to look at, but he wasn't who she had been hoping for deep down. "Uh…yeah. Drank it too fast."

"That'll happen with those frozen thingies. S'why I usually just get straight whiskey." And he ended up ordering two, rubbing his blond stubble as he turned to face her again.

"For lunch?"

He laughed. "Well, it's been a bitch of a long day for me, waitin' around for you to show up."

"And now that I'm here?" She met his green eyes steadily, sipping her drink slower this time, swirling the straw in it a little.

"Now that yer here, I feel like the world's just gotten a lot brighter, sugar."

She shivered in a bad way and waited for the barkeep to move to the other side to help a middle-aged couple at the end of the bar. And then she glared a little. "Okay, cut the crap. What do you want?"

He sobered and pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Jesus, IQ. Bite my head off, why don't you?"

"I hate it when you douchebags throw IQ at me. It's Walker."

"Yeah, and a month ago it was…fuck, somethin' with a G, wasn't it? Gilligan? Whatever. IQ makes things smoother, easier." He smirked a little nastily.

"I don't give a shit. Just tell me why the hell you're here."

"On my way to a mission of my own. The director wanted me to slip you a rendezvous point."

"Rendezvous for _what_?" She didn't want to let Agent Edison know she was practically suspended. That was just what she needed. The asshat agents at Langley having something else to throw in her face to dress her down besides just the fact that she was the "Ice Queen". Emotionless. Stone-faced blondie. Hard ass. Buzz kill. Director's pet. Kept her legs closed. Like whether her legs were open or closed had anything to do with them or what she did for the CIA.

"The fuck should I know?" He shrugged. "Don't care neither. Just be there or it's _yer_ ass."

"Well, who am I meeting with?" she asked. Dear God don't let it be him, she thought to herself.

He simply climbed up from his seat with a shrug, knocking his whiskeys back one after the other and burping a little. "Best of luck, IQ," he said, emphasizing the nickname he knew she hated on purpose. The bartender chose that moment to come back to their side as Edison threw some bills down on the bar top. "Have another brain freeze on me, darlin'."

Sarah almost followed him and kicked his ass when he pinched her chin between his fingers. It was so hard to keep her cover as he strolled away. More like strutted, the piece of shit. Out of all of the people Graham could have sent to give her the rendezvous point, he sent the biggest douchebag in the agency?

Great. Thanks.

The bartender put her second piña colada down in front of her and Sarah thanked him through gritted teeth. He asked if she was okay, and she shrugged, shaking her head.

"Thanks. I've dealt with assholes before," she said in French. He snorted and nodded, leaving to help another customer. Sarah picked up the note Edison left on his stool and pocketed it immediately. She would look at it later when she was back in her room, away from prying eyes.

For now, she was going to finish her God damn piña coladas.

Both of them.

* * *

Agent Edison is that dickhead at your job that you've always wanted to make into a character, and then you're writing a story and you find the perfect role for him...

Did I give away too much maybe? Maybe.

I'll try to make the wait for the next chapter a little less of a wait. Since I like you all so much!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	7. To Vacations For One

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** You all are magical. Thank you for the reviews and thank you for reading!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I am not making money from writing this story.

* * *

Chapter 7: _**To Vacations For One**_

"I mean, what even _is_ a workaholic? There are at least two types, right? The workaholic who's chained to their desk because they're a perfectionist or obsessive or something. Then there's the workaholic who really just loves their job, you know? So for her to call _me_ a workaholic is a little silly, because she is, too. She's just like…a different kind of workaholic. Are you okay?"

Sarah kept staring straight ahead. She could hear what he was saying, but she honestly wasn't listening.

She had a lot on her mind. And she had exactly six full days until she rendezvoused with whomever Graham sent with her next orders. If that was the point of the rendezvous. She still didn't even know why she had to meet with anyone.

What she did know was that she needed to have her mind made up either way about what her future was going to look like by the time she went to that meeting. Graham and the CIA in general didn't deserve to be strung along while she laid out all of her options, trying to decide where to go from here. And honestly, she didn't deserve it, either.

If she didn't want to do this anymore, she needed to get out while she could. Before something happened that made it impossible to do so. She needed to get out before the criminal world started putting a face to the legend. There was only so much disguises and names could do before it all caught up to her.

If she was serious about staying, then she needed to decide by Monday. It was Tuesday now. If she couldn't figure everything out by then, she wasn't worthy of either path. That was how she felt about it, anyway.

"Hey…Sarah?"

She felt his elbow nudge her gently and she shook herself out of her own boundless mind. When she turned to look up at Chuck, she saw the look of curiosity in his handsome face.

"I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be such a space cadet. I've been awful all night, I'm sorry."

"That's not true. It's impossible for you to be awful for even a short amount of time, let alone an entire night. Annnd that was super corny, sorry." He chuckled at himself and shook his head.

"Nah, it was sweet. As was the entire production you set up for dinner. That was _also_ sweet."

Chuck had surprised her by taking her down to a bike rack where two bikes were chained. They biked down the promenade to a beautiful park with a perfect view of the French Riviera sunset, and when they arrived, Chuck opened the basket on the front of his bike and revealed their dinner inside. He'd even packed a blanket to put down in the grass, and extra blankets for them to wrap themselves up in if it got a little chilly once the sun went down.

It was romantic. Some other woman somewhere might've tagged it as a little cliché. But that thought didn't even occur to Agent Sarah Walker. Because people didn't go out of their way to romance her. Nobody went out of their way for her. Nobody put any effort into anything having to do with her. Not to make her feel good, especially.

So the picnic in the park during a sunset thing was nothing short of sweet. And the food had been excellent. He'd gotten it all from a deli he found the day before, apparently, when he and his sister and her fiancé went exploring further inland.

And now here they were, walking the bikes he'd rented back along the promenade, enjoying the sea breeze as they passed beneath the glow of the lamps.

And she was rudely ignoring him. Not just now, but earlier while they ate as well, she realized belatedly.

This probably wasn't the date he'd been expecting after all of the effort he put into it. How much planning had he done? The renting of the bikes, buying blankets and the basket. Buying thermoses for their coffee. Buying the food. Figuring out how to make it all a nice little surprise. He was so sweet and she was so awful.

"No, Chuck, really. I'm sorry I've been a little…absent…tonight."

"Absent? Naaah, you're standing right here," he said, nudging her with his shoulder, and she shook her head with a smirk at his toothy grin.

"Haa. You know what I mean," Sarah answered in a flat voice. "I've got a lot on my mind tonight. I didn't mean to let it affect this."

"It's okay," he said, and she could see that he sincerely meant it. She was incredibly grateful for that. "Do you, um…Well, I don't know. I mean, you don't really know me all that well and vice versa. So if you don't want to, that's totally cool. But if you want to, you can. I mean, if you want to talk about it or something." He winced, puffing out his cheeks a little.

"Really?" she asked quietly.

"Yes! Absolutely. Of course." It was almost like he was _eager_ , the way his eyes widened and he leaned closer as they walked.

"It's just work stuff," she said truthfully, shaking her head. How much of this was she willing to relinquish anyway? She couldn't exactly say, "Well, I'm really disillusioned with killing people for the government so I want to see if I'm capable of living like a normal person with a normal job, but I also don't know if I've sinned too much to deserve a normal life, or if I can really even survive in the real world with real people, and sometimes I wonder if I'm even fully human." So instead she just left it at "work stuff".

That seemed enough for him as he nodded and pursed his lips. "Ah. Work stuff. I know how that is. Even on vacation, you can never really escape it, huh?"

"God, isn't that the truth?" she sighed, wrinkling her nose.

"You'll work it out. I have faith in you." Sarah turned to give him a long look and he noticed, backtracking quickly. "I know, I know. We just met a few days ago. And have had a couple of meals and some…other things…yesterday morning…that I'm apparently gonna be super high school about, so there's that…" She giggled. "You might not think I can say something like that, that I have faith in you, but I'm here to tell you that I can. And I will. Well, I mean, I have. And I just need to shut up now, oh my God." He shut his eyes and hung his head, completely stopping, still holding his bike up at his left side with both hands on the handlebars.

Sarah nudged the kickstand in place, left her bike, and closed the distance between them. She brought her hands up to cup his neck and swooped in to catch his lips in a kiss. He tilted his face up to make things more comfortable for them both and kissed her back, his free hand resting on her hip.

This wasn't the first time she'd kissed him since he left her suite yesterday morning.

In fact, after they'd eaten dinner, Chuck had set up their bikes as something of a makeshift screen, wrapping them both up in a blanket, under which they managed to make out quite heavily, even rounding second base. Gleefully on her part. Very gleefully.

But this kiss was different from the all-encompassing heat of their public make out session.

It triggered something deep inside of her, something she hadn't even known existed. It was more than just her heart beating a little faster. She wasn't hearing some dramatic romantic theme in her head like what happened in movies. She just felt… _something_. Something that she'd never felt before. Ever.

She pulled back a little, even though she really wanted to keep kissing him to drag that feeling out forever.

"You probably don't know why, but you really, _really_ deserved that," she said, her voice low and gravely.

"I usually try not to look a gift horse in the mouth," he whispered, leaning in to peck her lips and earning a soft giggle.

"Smart man," she said. She had a moment of realization, then, as she pressed her lips together in a bit of a smirk and raised her eyebrow. This was flirting. Real flirting. Not the kind of flirting that resulted in being shown to a mark's hotel room. Not the kind of flirting that allowed her to go into restricted areas. At this moment, she was just a woman flirting with a man, and she wasn't doing it for any reason except that she wanted to. Maybe she just wanted to see him smile again. She didn't know. But the realization felt really good.

They walked the rest of the way with Sarah a little less stuck in her own head as they conversed comfortably. He told her about Ellie being a doctor and how she and Devon met in medical school. And that they were waiting to get married for a little while, at least until they could really settle into their work and raise enough money to have the type of wedding they both wanted.

Which was, apparently, an expensive wedding. According to Chuck. Not that they were purposefully setting out to have an expensive wedding, he clarified. But everything they talked about sounded so expensive to him. The only thing he hadn't heard them talk about yet, he joked, was the releasing of doves once they sealed the deal.

Sarah didn't really understand big weddings outside of romance movies. But then, she'd never understood marriage in general, let alone an expensive ceremony and after party. It was all a bunch of unnecessary pomp and circumstance. She couldn't imagine making a decision like that—wanting to be with one person forever. And then making that decision in front of droves of people—some you know, some you don't know that well.

Her own decision in the next three days about her future would be hard enough. And a small voice in the back of her head reminded her that one path meant never seeing what all of the wedding fuss was about for herself, while the other…well, the other maybe left that door open for her.

She wanted to stop talking about marriage suddenly. "So, why'd you come here?" she asked. "What made you take this fancy, long vacation, Mr. Workaholic?"

Chuck gave her a flat look and she had a feeling it wasn't directed at her, but at himself. "That's a really good question. Mr. Workaholic was half shoved here."

"Shoved?" she asked, furrowing her brow in amusement.

"Yeeeah, I didn't really wanna." He shrugged. "But it's been years since I've even left California, outside of really quick, busy jaunts to a convention in Vegas or Dallas or New York. I never have time for anything besides the panels, conferences, and meetings before it's back to LA. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining or anything. I love my work. It's just a fact, I don't…get out much."

"So my new nickname for you is pretty apt, is what you're saying. You _are_ a workaholic."

"So you _were_ listening," Chuck teased, making a face at her.

She smiled sheepishly, feeling herself blush a bit. "So, what? Did Ellie drug you to get you on the plane?"

Chuck laughed, rocking forward. "Not exactly. Though I wouldn't have put it past her if it came down to it. No, she just kept pushing. Kept getting my assistant and some of the people I work with to pressure me. The amount of people at work who'd hint that I needed a vacation. Some were subtle, some were less subtle. Like putting a framed stock photo of a tropical paradise on my desk. Ellie even snuck into my office while I was in a meeting one day, with my assistant's help I'm sure, and changed my computer's desktop background to a picture of the French Riviera."

Sarah laughed and he shook his head, amused.

"It was originally supposed to be this super romantic pre-wedding vacation for Ellie and Awesome, though." Sarah smiled at the way Chuck so easily called his almost-brother-in-law "Awesome". It was cute, and spoke of how much of a bond he must have with the other man. She thought she felt a spike of something immature in her chest. Envy, maybe. And she was a bit ashamed.

"That's nice that you didn't want to rain on their romantic getaway parade. I'm sure a lot of brothers wouldn't give a rat's ass. You say Nice, they say when. That sort of thing."

"Eh. I mean, I wasn't exactly thinking it'd be all that enjoyable. Not that they're overly annoying about the mushy pet name, making everybody around them uncomfortable shit a lot of couples have going on. They've got a nice, mature thing goin' and I love 'em both. It's just…being a third wheel to anybody's twosome is laaame," he said, drawing out the last word and slumping down to put his cheek on her shoulder as they continued walking.

She laughed. "Well if they invited you, they wanted you here."

Chuck lifted his head from her shoulder again. "And they definitely do want me here. I was just a little…hesitant. That's all." He shrugged. "I mean, once I got here, it was pretty freaking gorgeous. It's just…God, I'm gonna sound like such a dweeb, but going someplace super romantic like this? It seems sort of loserish to go alone."

His eyes widened then as he probably realized she was here alone, too. She wasn't offended in the slightest since she actually came here to assassinate a criminal for the CIA, not to go on a vacation by herself.

She bit her cheek to keep from laughing as he backtracked again.

"Oh, crap! I didn't mean that _you_ —You're so cool. You are not loserish. My foot has gone in my mouth so much tonight that I might need to buy deliciously flavored shoes or something—or no, really bad tasting shoes because that'd be more of a deterrent. Not that shoes don't already taste really bad. Oh my God, shut uuuup," he groaned, thumping himself in the head with his fist.

He was awkwardly rambling his way straight into her bed and he sincerely had no idea. He was the sweetest thing to ever live on this earth, she was sure of it, and she would do her best to put him out of his misery. Even though she was enjoying this thoroughly.

"Chuck, you don't have to apologize. You're entitled to see this place any way you want to. You're kinda right, anyways. Nice is probably second only to Paris as far as the romance capital of the world title goes. At least, in my mind it is. Look at me, for instance. I didn't come here to find romance. Not by a long shot." She bit her lip, steeled herself. And in spite of everything in her screaming _stop right now_ , she added, "But I found it anyways."

He softened significantly. "I do what I can."

That made her giggle. A soft, bubbly giggle that came from deep inside of her.

"Why _did_ you come here? I'm sure you answered a similar question a few nights ago when we had dinner for the first time. Probably before I dove under the table to hide from my sister," he finished in a droll voice.

She smiled mutely and then twisted her lips to the side in thought. He probably had asked the question and she'd probably given him a response that didn't actually answer his question but sounded like she did. She was really good at that. Deflecting. Outright lying. And making it seem like she wasn't.

"Uh, I guess I needed a break. Some peace and quiet. And it's, um, it's easier to be alone someplace where no one knows you." She was getting a little too close to the truth, so she rushed on. "Also, I mean…it's Nice. On the French Riviera. I guess I wasn't really thinking about it as a romantic getaway as much as I was thinking about it as a plain ol'… _getaway_ getaway. Does that make sense?" She wrinkled her nose. She knew it made sense. But she also knew it softened her a little to ask a question like that, to make herself look a little sheepish, unsure of herself.

"Perfect sense," he said immediately. "The sunset is still gorgeous even if you're watching it all by yourself. The weather is still perfect. The views are still glorious."

"Exactly."

There was a lull in the conversation before he asked, "The job getting to you?""How could you tell?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Do I have bags under my eyes? Am I particularly haggard?"

He chuckled and nearly even looked offended by the notion. "Woman, I have news for you. I'm almost certain haggard is not anywhere in your settings." He waved his hand dramatically over different parts of her body. "Stunning, mesmerizing, sexy…yes. Haggard? No. Never."

 _Straight_ into her bed. As soon as possible.

Did he know saying things like that to a girl made said girl want to drag him to bed? And the way he said it, with such sincerity, without taking the time to prep how he phrased his words.

"Are you always this sweet?"

Why did she sound so breathless? It was a little nerve-wracking. She thought maybe she should just embrace it. The physical pull she felt towards him was overwhelming. Maybe she should just let it take her over. Crash over her like a wave of hot water.

"Um. I don't know. I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam," he said, shrugging and giving her that toothy grin again.

Thankfully they arrived at their hotel right then, because Sarah was sort of done talking.

Chuck led them around the side of the building to the bike rental shack. They returned the bikes and walked back around to their own building. Without even thinking twice about it, she almost took Chuck's free hand in hers. But she didn't, barely resisting. A part of her wondered if she would even be able to control herself if she touched him.

They stepped into the elevator together and he pressed the button for his floor. Sarah made no move to press the button for her own floor. She didn't even think about pressing the button for her own floor. They were going down a dangerous path, here. And not just because of the heat between them as they stood side by side in the elevator. There was something deeper. She felt it. And it made her wonder if she was being fair to him.

He deserved better than her.

But this wasn't that intense. It was just a vacation…thing. A tryst. An exploration of attraction. Right? So why shouldn't she indulge? She'd never had a problem indulging before. And maybe because nothing else had ever felt this…emotional.

She shoved that thought down. Deep, deep down. Because she was selfish.

Sarah stepped into Chuck's suite for the second time and this time she wasn't distracted by his hands and lips everywhere, his drunken, warm weight pressed against her. Not that she'd be complaining if she was being distracted by his hands and lips, but as cute of a drunk as he was, she would appreciate ending tonight in a similar fashion to how they started their morning yesterday.

There was no sense in being coy about it. She wanted him.

Without the distraction, though, she was really able to take the suite in. Every detail. It looked just like hers, except it seemed a little more lived in, perhaps. A jacket on the back of one of the chairs by the window. Shoes next to the couch. A few bags of snacks shoved into the corner of the bar. A used glass beside the snacks.

Sarah tended not to take up much room.

When she wore clothes, she folded them and put them back. Shoes came off her feet and went back in the suitcase. Jackets came off and went right into the closet. It was something she'd learned pulling cons with her dad, even before she got to the CIA and went through fast escape training at the Farm. When they needed to leave quick, like if they were pegged by the cops, it was just easier to grab the suitcase and go, rather than packing everything up again first.

Chuck was a real guy. A normal person. He didn't have to run away. What did he have to escape from?

His life was safe. Regular.

And at one time, she would've called it boring.

Not now. That probably said a lot about how much she had changed even in the last year.

This nerdy guy was anything _but_ boring. He kept her on her toes, and in the best way possible. She was constantly surprised by him, invigorated in his presence even. She could watch him ramble and inadvertently talk himself into a corner and speak without thinking for days on end. It was so innocent, but she didn't think that about him in a patronizing way. There was no need for him to lie or guard his words. He didn't have a filter because he didn't need one. He had a sense of confidence that was different from the confidence she saw in her fellow agents. And it was way sexier. It was a "take me or leave me" sort of confidence that she thought maybe other women saw as an excuse to leave him, this nerdy goofball of a guy, behind. But it was so new for her, and so hot. She'd take him in a heartbeat.

Add to that the disarming compliments that were so sincere…

Well, she would take this kind of excitement over a speedy and dangerous roof chase in Venice. The adrenaline was like a drug when she was working…but she thought maybe Chuck had something to offer that was much better. And safer. At least physically.

She still wasn't quite so sure how safe he was emotionally. At least for her. Any regular woman who wasn't an assassin with a million issues and hang-ups might be enthused by someone like Chuck Bartowski, as attuned as they probably were to their own emotions, their own wants and needs. But Sarah _was_ an assassin. And she had a million issues and hang-ups.

So trusting her emotions to anyone was risky.

And had she not just met him a few days ago?

This really should have unsettled her more than it did. That she was even _considering_ him in her decision about whether the CIA was her future or not. About whether or not she would abandon everything she'd known for a decade of her life to try something…new.

"Want a drink?" he asked, taking the blankets from her and moving to set them and the basket he held down on the table across the room. She tried not to focus too much on the way he lingered at the window for just a moment, eyeing the wide open drapes, before thinking twice and closing them securely. But it was hard to ignore how the simple act of him closing the drapes to prying eyes made the room feel a little warm suddenly. Maybe it wasn't the room. Maybe it was just her.

And she thought maybe she wasn't the only one who'd felt the electricity sparking between them in the last few minutes.

She unzipped her sweatshirt and shrugged it off. "Uh, what've ya got?"

"I'm actually not sure. Ellie raided it last night for—I don't know why. Strike that, I don't _want_ to know why. And now I _definitely_ need a drink."

Sarah laughed, crossing to join him at the bar and leaning up against it a little jauntily while he leaned down to open the cabinet and rummage. "Speaking of high school," she teased.

His gaze slid slowly up her body to her face, his jaw dropping. "Ex-squeeze me? Oh I'm so sorry if the thought of my sister having sex grosses me out. She just raised me, that's all. This is why I specifically got a room on another floor from them. Far, _far_ away." It was obvious he was teasing.

She laughed again, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately and earning another look that didn't even begin to cover up how pleased he was by the action. "She's got her needs just like any other human. It's just biology."

Chuck stood to his full height then, a few mini bottles of alcohol clutched between his fingers. She was a little distracted by how unbelievably tall he was and the magnetism between them, and the memory of how smooth and hard and strong his body was, and how he looked without clothes on, how good his hair felt between her fingers, his voice in her ear as he held her…

"Is it? Biology?"

His voice was so deep. And she could practically feel his chest rumbling against hers, he was pressed so close.

"Chemistry," she drawled. "And I'll take vodka if you've got it."

Chuck blinked adorably and let out a soft huff in amusement, giving her a rather smirkish look as he backed away and set the bottles down. "Oh, I've got it alright." Unscrewing the cap off of the small bottle, he grabbed a clean glass and poured, dropping a few ice cubes in and handing it to her. He did the same for himself, except with whiskey.

"Cheers?" Sarah asked, holding up her glass.

He raised both eyebrows, one side of his mouth tilting up a little goofily. "Sure! To what?"

"To a romantic vacations for one."

She preened at the sincere laughter that rang from him, sure she'd never been quite so happy about making another person laugh before.

"To romantic vacations for one," he echoed, clinking his glass against hers.

Sarah downed her vodka without lowering the glass once, setting it back on the bar and licking her lips. Chuck blinked, looking down at the glass first, then raising his eyes up at her and blinking one more time.

"Ooookay."

He shrugged. And then his whiskey was gone just as fast, if not faster. He winced a little, smacked his lips a few times, set his glass down, and dove in to kiss her.

She saw it coming a mile away, gracefully stepping to the side so that he staggered forward a few steps and grabbing his hand to drag him away from the bar and into his bedroom.

That little flirtation by the bar was foreplay enough for Sarah. She could practically still feel his large hands dragging over her body from the other morning, the way they'd felt cupped over her breasts, his lips on her skin. But the thing she coveted the most was at this moment tucked away in his jeans.

So that was where she directed her attention, quickly unbuttoning Chuck's pants, sliding the zipper down, and yanking them all the way to his ankles with one strong tug. Chuck just stared with big eyes, holding his hands up by his shoulders as if in surrender. "Whoa. Uh…okay."

Sarah had a moment of wondering if she'd come on too strong. But then he shook himself and stepped out of his jeans with a sense of something akin to urgency, completely putting her worry that she'd startled him to rest.

The rest of the undressing went by exceedingly fast as they helped one another, neither of them wasting time with distractions like extracurricular touches or kisses.

Her entire body was humming as Chuck yanked the sheets to the foot of the bed. He stood to his full height again and pulled her in close, taking just a moment to look at her. And then he moved in for a slow kiss, gently willing her to open her mouth and sliding his tongue over her teeth when she obeyed.

Sarah felt a soft moan come from deep within her as she rounded his broad shoulders with her arms. She smashed her tongue against his, tangling her body around his lithe frame. And for only the second time in her life, the first being with this same man just yesterday, Sarah vowed to lose herself completely.

They were still getting to know one another, still learning what felt good where—though, so far Sarah had found that pretty much everything felt amazing everywhere when Chuck was in the driver's seat, so to speak.

Perhaps it was her turn to drive.

Sarah stepped back from him, their lips coming apart with a soft smack, and she smirked a little, looking up at him through her eyelashes as a smile built slowly over his handsome face. She took advantage of his distraction to place both hands on his chest and give him a gentle shove.

"Whoa!" He sat on the mattress hard, looking up at her with wide eyes.

The assassin barely gave her companion time to register what was happening before she crawled onto the bed over him, her knees straddling him. But it didn't take long before she felt his long arms wrap around her, one around her thighs and the other around her lower back. And then he was kissing her stomach, running his mouth over every muscle of her abdomen, teasing her belly button with his tongue.

Sarah sighed and dropped her hands to his head, running her fingers through his soft hair and shutting her eyes, letting her head fall back as she just enjoyed the sensations.

That was something new for her.

It had honestly been over a year, maybe even closer to two, since she'd had sex. But she could still remember how it had been. And the times before that with other men. It had been fine. It was sex…she'd never had truly awful sex. But she'd always had to be the worker. She could never allow herself to just _feel_. If she did, if she lost concentration, it broke the spell completely. Whoever her sexual partner happened to be at that moment didn't do well without her complete physical involvement.

Her emotional involvement had never been there and that hadn't mattered to them.

But Chuck was different.

She could just stop everything she was doing, sit back, relax, and _enjoy_. It didn't throw him off for even a second. In fact, she suspected he thoroughly enjoyed being able to throw all his efforts into pleasing her, even if she wasn't returning his efforts. Chuck was allowing Sarah to be a little selfish and it was amazing.

That being said, she found herself needing a bit more, so she lowered herself to sit on his thighs, bending her knees on either side of his hips and leaning forward to kiss him. She used her grip on his hair to tug him into a harder kiss, humming against his lips wantonly.

He squeezed her thighs and sighed, kissing her back just as hard, and when she lowered her hand to wrap her fingers around his cock, he jolted in surprise, whimpering into the kiss.

Chuck pulled back and looked down between them, watching as she slowly stroked up and down his length. She watched his face as he boggled at what she was doing to him, and it was so satisfying to see him swallow repeatedly, his brow furrowed at the sensation, his jaw clenched. "Sarah," he whimpered as her efforts increased in speed. He was hardening in her fist much faster now, and when she was sufficiently satisfied that he was ready for her—because she'd been ready for what felt like ages now what with the way she was practically throbbing for him between her legs—she lifted up from his lap a bit and scooted closer.

She had to take her hand off of him, bracing herself on his shoulders, but Chuck reached between them and gently stroked along her slit, preparing her for him, before the delicious feeling of him touching her ended. She felt the head of his cock rub over her a few times before he guided himself into her entrance.

Sarah slid down his length slowly, reacquainting herself with how filling he was, until he was buried deep inside of her, lowering her weight completely onto his lap.

Chuck held her by her sides and pulled her torso close, kissing her neck and then moving back to press his forehead against hers. She breathed his name so softly, cupping his face, nuzzling his nose.

This really was something new. The raw lust she always expected during sex was never accompanied by anything else. It happened, it was over, and that was it. With one and sometimes (but rarely) both of them fully satisfied. Or at least, satisfied enough.

But Sarah found herself wanting more with this man. She wanted to hear her name on his lips, an aching whisper against her cheek. She wanted to feel him caress her body with his large, warm hands. And she wanted to look into his face, into his honey eyes. Eye contact wasn't something she did during sex. But…she wanted it now.

So she opened her eyes and met his gaze, feeling a bit of a blush on her cheeks at how intimate this was.

His lips twitched in something of a smile, but then it collapsed into a look of awe as she started moving on his lap. Bracing her knees on the mattress with her feet hanging over the edge of the bed, Sarah started gyrating her hips gracefully. She sat heavily on him, making sure he was buried as deep as possible, keeping her grinding movements fluid.

His fingers grabbed hold of her ass and she whimpered, clenching with each stroke as he squeezed. "Nnng, Chuuuck," she moaned in a strangled voice, kissing him languidly, their tongues meeting.

He pulled out of the kiss and hunched over, moving to cup his hand under her breast and smash it up towards his mouth. Sarah cried out and let her head fall back, once again feeling that delicious tingle prickle along her skin, goosebumps raising on her arms.

But as good as this felt, with his lips and tongue moving over her breasts, his capable fingers touching her where his mouth was not, Sarah needed more. So she took him by his biceps and pushed him down so that his back was flat on the mattress. He gazed up at her, his eyelids fluttering in passion, and she braced her hands on his chest, starting to make her thrusts more powerful.

She swept her hips back and forth, whimpering softly at the feel of him stroking the front wall of her vagina. And she began to tighten her muscles, feeling that perfect throbbing ache in her center as she rode him.

Chuck reached up to grab her breasts again, kneading her wonderfully as his thumbs flicked over her nipples. She gasped his name and whined, biting her lip and letting her head fall forward, her braid slipping past her shoulder to dangle over him.

Sarah moved her hands, slamming them against the mattress on either side of Chuck's head, twisting her fists in the sheets, and swirling her hips in a circular motion, letting out a high-pitched whimper.

"Saaarahhh," he groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth stretched into a wide, satisfied smile. It was more than gratifying to see what she was doing to him, to see that he was enjoying this as much as she was. She continued her powerful thrusts for awhile, not letting up at all as the minutes ticked by, even if she was beginning to feel slight twinges of protest in her limbs. When it started getting to the point where she might be sore later, she decided to switch it up again to ease her muscles a little.

Chuck's hands fell to her thighs, massaging them, almost as though he could tell they were aching. It sent her desire straight through the ceiling.

She straightened up, pulling her shoulders back. She braced one hand on his abdomen and reached back with the other to brace herself on his thigh, making quick little thrusts with her hips, the movement causing them to bounce on the mattress. It helped her to set a rhythm and she didn't have to work quite as hard, which suited her just fine. And considering the soft growls and sighs Chuck was making, he was perfectly satisfied with it as well.

She wasn't sure how long that went on, but she knew it was at least a handful of minutes. Because she was beginning to feel her need increase and her patience dwindle. Part of her had wanted to drag it out, make it last as long as possible, give him everything he needed. But she found herself catering to her own needs now. Selfishly, she just wanted that electrifying finish. She wanted what he'd given her a few times yesterday morning. And she wanted it now.

Sarah leaned forward to drape her chest over his, reaching up and twisting the sheet in her fist over Chuck's head, her other hand cupping his jaw as she swung her hips, clenching again with each thrust forward. Her thighs and abdomen were threatening to ache but she ignored it, going in even harder. Because she could feel the excruciatingly slow build of her orgasm deep in her belly. And she was striving for it, longing for that mind blowing sensation.

She opened her mouth and threw her head back as she continued grinding on top of him, so hard and slow, her muscles tightening, straining to reach her climax.

"Oh my God," he groaned. And she grinned even as she worked when Chuck reached up with both hands and grabbed her ass again. He pulled himself even deeper inside of her, starting to lift his hips to meet her.

Her muscles were crying out for relief, but she needed an orgasm more, so she pushed herself up to grab him by his shoulders, opening her mouth in ecstasy, gasping and whimpering, speeding her pace, tightening her ass as he continued pulling her down onto his hard shaft.

"Oh yes!" she whined.

She was on the edge. She was almost there. Just a few more.

"Yes, yes, yes! Oh _God yes_!"

Sarah threw her head back, her features pinched in utter ecstasy as an orgasm flooded through her body. She felt the twitching and throbbing between her legs, her limbs shivering, and her voice left her completely as the air swept out of her lungs with a whoosh.

As lost as she was in the pleasure still coursing through her body, her climax making everything throb in the best way, she didn't feel Chuck flip them over until her back was pressed against the mattress and Chuck hovered over her. She was now in the position she'd pinned him in before, except Chuck was in control this time.

He stood next to the bed, leaning over her, his hardness still buried inside of her. And he reached down to take her hips in his hands, pulling her all the way to the edge of the mattress before he started thrusting into her. Over and over and over again.

Chuck braced himself with one hand next to her, the other clutching her waist and tugging her to meet his strokes. She watched his body, the way his muscles moved in his shoulders and arms, his clenching abdomen. It was so damn hot.

"Oh God, Chuck. Yes. Right there," she whimpered. And then another breathy whimper when he sped his pace.

Sarah lifted her legs, bending them at the knee and essentially trapping Chuck between them, letting her upper half melt into the mattress. She was going to let herself enjoy what he was doing to her again, saying soft words of encouragement, letting him know how good he was making her feel.

And when his features became pinched, like he was on the brink of his own finish, Sarah wrapped her fingers around his forearm that was close to her head, reaching down to drag the fingers of her other hand along his lower abdomen, all the way down to where he was entering her. She stroked the area around his cock, straining a little to reach.

He twitched then, losing his rhythm as she felt the liquid heat of his seed flooding into her. "Hnnngg Sarah!" he exclaimed, his voice strangled with pleasure. She watched his face, the way his jaw clenched and his face went bright red, his eyes clenching shut and his nostrils flaring. He shook a little with his release and she arched her hips against him, over and over, helping him empty himself completely before he nearly went limp.

He pulled out of her and twisted his body a little as she reached up to catch him, so that they both ended up on their sides, facing one another at the edge of the bed with their legs dangling.

Chuck was laughing breathlessly, his chest heaving, his face buried in the sheets. Sarah just grinned, reaching up to put a hand over her eyes.

"Well!" she panted.

And that only made him laugh longer. And she grinned even harder at being the reason behind his laughter.

"Oh mannnn," he groaned, turning onto his back and covering his face with his hands. She noticed the grin hadn't left his face either. "I can't even breathe."

She giggled and shook her head, turning to stare at the ceiling and attempting to catch her breath. Because she was having a bit of a hard time, too. She had that incessant throbbing between her legs still, as well, since he'd essentially worked her up to the edge of orgasm before he came. She didn't give it a second thought.

With a soft moan, she scooted a little further onto the bed and pushed herself to sit up, tucking the hair that escaped the braid behind her ears and letting out a long breath of air. "Wow."

And then his arm curled around her waist and he clambered up to his knees, hoisting her up against him. She squealed with laughter as he swung both of them up to lie properly on the bed. Curious, she watched him twist around to crawl up the length of her body, before he gently kissed along her neck. (God, what was it about her neck that drew him to it so often?) And then he was moving up to her jaw, around to the spot behind her ear. And then he had her earlobe between his lips, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. The extra pulse between her legs was suddenly getting that second thought now.

It was then that she realized that was his goal, because he laid his palm flat on her lower belly, before stroking his fingers down lower and lower and lower, until he was cupping her sex.

"Chuck," she whispered in surprise, turning her face to meet his gaze.

"Just enjoy," he said, his voice deep and deliciously rumbly.

She felt his fingers stroke along her slit, teasing her entrance…before they moved up to rub her clit, slowly at first, in small effective circles, and then rubbing her fast and hard. She arched herself into his touch, her mouth open as she let out whimpering gasps.

And then he swiped back down over her slit and ever so slowly eased first one finger inside of her, thrusting it in and out, before adding a second finger. Sarah kept her eyes on the ceiling, before she shut them completely, letting her head fall to the side as she whined and moaned, gasping for breath as he purposefully pressed the pads of his fingers against her front inner wall.

Sarah knew almost inherently that he was searching for it, searching for that spot that was supposed to make a woman go mad during sex.

Chuck shifted then, thrusting the arm that wasn't pleasuring her under her neck so that she had something to put her head on. It was generous, thoughtful, and unsurprising…even as it surprised her.

"Ohhh," she moaned, turning her lips to press against the muscle of his bicep. She bent her right leg, keeping her left down so that he still had full access, but now his fingers were inside of her at an even better angle as he thrusted them in and out, in and out.

She was on the edge again. She could feel that glorious ache between her legs, in her lower abdomen. "I'm almost there," she whimpered softly. "Come on, Chuck. Ohhh, that's it."

He whispered her name against her cheek, kissing up to her temple, whispering her name again, and pushing his fingers inside of her as deep as he could, curling them in a come hither motion so that stars exploded in her vision. "Yes! There!"

Chuck repeatedly ground his fingers on her g-spot until she came again, her body spasming against his as she turned her face to bite him. It made him chuckle softly and kiss the top of her head. But he kept thrusting his fingers inside of her slowly, gently, making it last as long as possible before easing her down from her high.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, her chest heaving as she panted. "Chuck. Oh Chuck, that was amazing."

He pulled his fingers out of her and tugged her close, hoisting her again and shifting her up the bed until her head was on a pillow again. She could get used to how easily Chuck lifted her and moved her around to make her comfortable. There was nothing possessive or intimidating about how strong he was, about how eager he was to take control. Because it was evident he just wanted her to feel good. Did he even care about his own pleasure? She wondered.

And then he was on top of her and they were kissing, hands wandering, bodies tangled. They were spent for now, but that didn't mean she was through with him. Not by a long shot. His lips still felt perfect against hers, his body so strong and warm, his legs sturdy. And his curls were so very soft between her fingers.

They stayed that way, wrapped together, making out, for what must have been half an hour. Until their bodies came alive again, their hands working each other into a frenzy.

This time it was slow and gentle, the fire no less potent between them, their touches no less passionate. It went on for awhile, over and over again, tumbling along the surface of the bed, hours passing, friendly competition and teasing leading to more and more and more. One hour, two hours, three…

Until Chuck's breathing evened out beneath her ear as she lay splayed on top of him, her own eyes a little droopy. She very carefully tilted her torso away from his to look down at him, taking in his peaceful features, his messy hair. He looked utterly satisfied, even in sleep, and she couldn't help agreeing with him wholeheartedly.

She'd tired him out well enough that he didn't even budge as she gently extracted herself from his embrace and climbed out of bed, reaching down to grab the sheets and pull them up over his prone body.

She searched the floor for all of her clothes, slipping them on one by one as she found them. And she couldn't help wondering if this was the sort of man a girl could really get hooked on. The sex, absolutely. She was already hooked on the sex if the last few hours were any indication.

But the man himself. He was special, too. And maybe the fact that she could recognize that, the fact that he was making her feel the things she was feeling (outside of the sex), was a good indication that she _was_ still human. Very human.

With that thought lodged in her mind, she slipped out of his bedroom with one last look at him and halted in the middle of the suite's sitting room. Then she crossed to the desk by the window and grabbed the pad of paper and a pen, writing down her cell number. Maybe it was a little risky, giving Chuck the number of the same phone she was currently using for work. But she trusted him. He wouldn't know it was anything but a travel phone he could call to reach her, right? She stared at the number for a moment then walked through the room and ducked into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind her. She hurried back down to her own suite, practically melting into the wall of the elevator and shutting her eyes until it reached her floor.

She collapsed into her bed a minute later, not even bothering to look at the clock, just barely finding the energy to change into clean sleep clothes. With one last burst of energy, she climbed under the covers and burrowed into her pillow, curling into a ball around it and falling into a deep, lasting sleep.

* * *

In the words of a thoroughly satisfied Sarah Walker...WELL!

Please review! Thanks for reading!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	8. Wallace 16

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** It has been so long. Forgive me for forsaking you, my people. No, seriously, I am sorry. Real life again. Thanks to those of you continually sending me messages. Thanks to the rest of you who so kindly leave reviews that actually interact with the story and the characters. It's very gratifying and I have enjoyed the short chats I've had with a few of you. Hope you all continue to enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I am not making any money from posting this story.

* * *

Chapter 8: **_Wallace-16_**

Sarah woke very late in the morning and spent a long time soaking in the bathtub, feeling exactly how she imagined she should feel after a night like last night.

It wasn't until she dressed, dried her hair, and wandered out to find a place to eat a late breakfast that those incessant _future_ thoughts started creeping back into her happily dazed mind.

She still had a decision to make. A very important decision. Her entire existence was riding on whatever that decision was. On Monday. And it was already Wednesday.

She crossed the street and fixed her aviators on her face.

There wasn't even a single cloud in the sky to dull the Mediterranean sun today, and yet she felt like there was a cloud hovering over her head. Just _her_ head. Nobody else's.

Nobody else had to decide whether or not to stay with the CIA. Whether or not to continue along the easier route where she followed orders, stuck to the script, and started the same thing over again. Over and over and over.

Or if she should— _could_ —take a huge chance, cut ties with the agency that had made her who she was today, say goodbye to a life of order, abandon something she was legitimately good at. And for what?

For a real life, that was what.

For an existence that wasn't wrought with danger and sometimes fear. For an existence that meant _feeling_ things…besides the rush of air going past her face as she narrowly missed getting a bullet lodged in her brain. Feeling things like what she'd felt last night. Getting a chance to laugh with someone the way she laughed with Chuck.

She wanted to enjoy things. Really enjoy them.

And she knew that was near to impossible in this life wrought with danger and murder. How could she allow herself to enjoy her own life when she'd just stripped someone else of theirs?

She sat alone in the corner of the cafe with her hash and coffee, munching on a thick slice of toasted sourdough thoughtfully. She reveled in the taste of it all, knowing that while it was possible to taste, smell, feel everything as the CIA's top assassin, she wouldn't be able to enjoy any of it the way she would were she an accountant. Or someone who plugged numbers into Excel spreadsheets all day long.

Did that sound boring as hell? Yes.

But was it worth it if she could walk down the street safely? Was it worth it if she didn't have to wonder who was next on the chopping block? If she didn't have to look over her shoulder every five minutes when she was in public? Or sleep with a knife under her pillow?

God, Chuck had almost stumbled upon the knife when they'd been having sex the other morning. She couldn't afford to have that happen. Not with him. Not with anyone.

But as long as she was an assassin, as long as she had to fear for her life, that was a definite risk. She needed that knife. She needed that protection.

What would it be like to be a woman who didn't need a weapon with her at all times? Even now she had a knife strapped to her thigh beneath her knee length khaki bermuda shorts. She needed it. To keep her safe. She had to be ready for anything.

Maybe she was suspended. But she'd killed a man last week and she didn't know if she was altogether safe still being here.

Maybe that was all Monday's meeting was about. An update on Roland Taft, on what his underlings were doing, how they were handling the situation with the head of their movement cut off now that he was dead. Or maybe it was a summons to come back to Langley. A new mission was on the horizon. Another life had to be snuffed out. Bullet in the brain. Or a fast-acting poison slipped into their whiskey.

She shifted uncomfortably, picking at her food without the gusto she should be eating with after the energy-depleting activities she'd engaged in for most of last night.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she smiled a little. She'd purposefully put her phone in her pocket. Because she didn't want to miss Chuck's call. And she wanted it to be Chuck at the end of the line more than she wanted it to be the director of the CIA.

A small voice in the back of her head told her that meant something.

But she ignored the voice as she scrambled to pull the phone out and answer. "Hello?"

"Oh. Hi. Good."

At the sound of his voice, her appetite came back in full force and she spooned some more hash into her mouth. "What kind of greeting is that?" she asked in amusement once she swallowed.

"I thought it might be 50/50 that you'd given me a fake phone number, so part of me wasn't really expecting you to answer."

"Why the hell would I do that? If I didn't want you to call me, I wouldn't have left my phone number," she giggled.

Did women actually do that? Then she thought of how it could be a defense mechanism…get the guy to leave you alone without making him angry. Give him what he wants and escape without there being a problem. It made total sense if she really thought about it. "Well, here I am."

"Yes. Here you are. Well, I mean, you're not _here_. I'd like you to be."

Sarah clamped her bottom lip between her teeth. He was _damn_ smooth this morning. "Well…I'm eating so…you're gonna have to wait."

That made him chuckle. She could hear the breeze behind his voice and figured he must be outside somewhere, enjoying the weather. "Late breakfast? Or early lunch? You slept in, didn't you? Are you a sleeper inner?"

"Am I a what?" she teased.

"Just—Nothing. Nevermind." She'd done her job. He sounded very teased. "Where are you eating?"

"You gonna stalk me if I tell you? Like, am I gonna turn around and see you standing at the door?"

He laughed. "No. I'll let you eat your breakfast in peace. I was just gonna ask if you're free tonight."

 _Yes. Absolutely. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Yes._

"I am," she said slowly.

"Would you like to _not_ be free tonight?" he asked just as slowly.

Sarah pursed her lips thoughtfully, then smirked. "I thought we'd already been through this, Chuck. I'm not free, I'm actually quite expensive."

She smirked harder at the sound of his laughter. Maybe the fact that he was good at making really awful jokes was why he caught onto hers so quickly. "Woooow, okay. I'm going to let you have that one, Miss Walker, but only because I probably would've come up with worse."

She laughed this time. "Shut up."

"So what about it, though?" he asked. "Tonight? Me? You?"

"Okay. What are we doing?"

"I was thinking my suite, ordering dinner in, a pay per view movie, video games… Erm, we don't _have_ to do the video games," he added when she was particularly silent. And she chuckled at him as he backtracked. "Just casual laid back things."

He wasn't saying it, but she was thinking it. _And sex._

The assassin's mind wasn't usually so firmly ensconced in the gutter, but after everything that had happened between them, the explosion of passion that occurred whenever they were locked behind closed doors…Well, her mind was so far in the gutter it was practically drowning there.

"Sounds nice," she said.

"Okay, so…maybe come over before dinner sometime? 5? 6? 7? I don't know. When you want."

"Deal. I'll see you then."

"Yes, ma'am. 'Til we meet again."

She laughed to herself as she hung up and pocketed the phone again.

Maybe she did have a huge decision to make, but she had time enough to think about all that. And in the meantime, she might as well have some fun with an invigorating and certainly diverting nerd.

—

Sarah pulled her hair up into a messy bun, looked at it from all angles, and took it out again, letting out an annoyed huff.

With years of training and experience under her belt, it should have been easy for her to put together a look that was both casual and enticing. Oversized pajamas weren't a good look for her. Something loose perhaps? Something that showed off her figure but was still comfortable? After all, they'd be lounging, eating, watching movies, drinking champagne…

The smirk on her face died as she realized she still hadn't solved her problem, and she growled to herself in frustration, walking into her bedroom and flopping down onto the bed with a huff. Not just about how to do her hair, or what to wear…but also about the CIA.

It was such a monumental decision.

A monumental decision she didn't want to think about just now.

So she focused on her clothes, what she knew she had. What each pair of pants, each blouse, each dress had to offer and which part of her person it highlighted the best. It was mentally draining, so she settled on a black pair of jeans that weren't so tight around the waist, and a blue button-up blouse. If nothing else, it made her eyes bluer.

Deciding to stop acting like a high schooler getting ready for a first date, and knowing Chuck was the type of guy who wouldn't care in the least what she was wearing, or what her hair looked like, she simply ran her brush through her golden locks and shrugged a black leather jacket on over her blouse. Just in case they changed their plans and went out for dinner or for dessert, or for a casual stroll or something.

She stepped into her pumps and finally left her suite at 5:25.

Arriving at 5 exactly would have been a little desperate, and she didn't want to wait until 6.

And by the time she got to Chuck's room, it was quite nearly 5:30. Perfect.

He answered almost immediately after she knocked, a massive and charming grin on his face. But the grin died immediately as he took in her appearance. "Oh."

Oh was right. He was definitely wearing plaid pajama pants and a nondescript white T-shirt. And he was barefoot and all ruffled and comfortable looking.

"So you meant… _casual_ casual," she said, trying not to laugh at the look on his face. "I didn't pick up on that."

"Crap, no. I'm—Wait, come on. I mean, come in. Come in, please." He stepped back and opened the door for her, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand as she moved inside.

He shut the door behind her, his cheeks a little red. "I'm—This is—Make yourself at home and I'll be right back, okay?"

She blinked as he scrambled towards his room and disappeared inside. Not entirely sure of what to do, Sarah pressed her lips together, raised her eyebrows, and swept her gaze around the room. The sun hadn't gone down all the way yet and wouldn't for another hour and a half or so, and the rays were beaming through the window.

His suite looked the same as it had last night, except that the area around the television looked more cluttered.

She walked closer, checking it out. He had apparently gone out and bought some movies, as well as hooked up his laptop to the TV. Did her hotel suite come with a cable? Could she hook her laptop up to the television, too? Not that she even knew what she would do with that, but it would still be cool to know she had some options.

And video games. Of course there were video games.

If he brought it up, she supposed she'd have no qualms about trying it at least. He didn't seem like the sort of guy who would force her to spend the whole night with a controller in her hand. Although maybe she'd misjudged him.

It wouldn't be the first time she would've misjudged Chuck Bartowski. He was a rare breed of a man.

And unlike anything she'd expected when she spoke to him the first time.

She didn't have a chance to muse further on the subject, though, because she heard the door to his bedroom open. Turning to look over her shoulder, she couldn't help but giggle in utter amusement. He had on brown pants and a light blue button up shirt that he unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

And he'd purposefully leaned against the doorframe, his arm raised up over his head in a hilariously, stereotypically GQ photo shoot fashion. "Heeey," he drawled, pushing his other hand through his hair.

Sarah knew he was putting on a show to make her laugh, and it was working, but she also couldn't help but find the entire production to be pretty hot. Not just because he _looked_ hot, but because he saw what she was wearing and hurried to change so that they were both at the same level of casual. And he was making fun of himself a little in the meantime.

It was almost too charming. But she wasn't complaining.

"Next month's GQ cover, right there," she said, slow clapping for him.

"Yeeeah, well…" He shrugged in faux modesty, lowering his arm and standing up straight, sticking his hands in his pockets to slowly meander a little closer. "Beachy casual sexiness is kinda my…middle name…sooo…"

She snorted. "Beachy casual sexiness is your middle name, huh?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

Then he dropped the act and stood up to his full height, throwing his shoulders back and raising his chin, gesturing to himself. "So? Now we're equally casual. And I don't look like a total bum anymore."

Sarah closed the distance between them and meticulously wrapped her fingers in his shirt, tugging teasingly. "You didn't look half bad before, to be honest. And if I'd picked up on just how casual you meant, I would have put on my PJs. I think you'd like those. A lot."

She let him ponder what she meant by that for a bit.

He seemed to get a lot of enjoyment out of doing just that, a slow smile growing on his lips. "You're making me regret I wasn't more clear. Clear _er_ , rather."

She wrinkled her nose. "Only decision you should regret right now is this shirt being unbuttoned this much." Laughing at his slightly embarrassed look of question, she buttoned his shirt up, leaving just the top two unbuttoned.

"Was it too Fabio?"

"A little," she said with a wince. "But it was also pretty freakin' cute."

He blushed which only made him that much cuter.

"Yes, well…I was going for suave and I ended up with _cute_ , so that's kind of the story of my life."

"Oh, stop. Such a martyr," she chuckled. "You know, sometimes suavity isn't all it's cracked up to be, Chuck." She paused for a moment, sobering just a little without meaning to. "It tends to be a little insincere. Trust me, I know."

He stuffed his hands back into his pockets a little shyly. "Have some bad experiences with suave guys? You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

Sarah loved that he tacked that on at the end without even having to think about it. Consistently thoughtful and sweet, this one was.

She smiled and shrugged. "There's not much to say. I've known enough suave guys to know that they aren't all that great. On the other hand, guys who are cute and sincere? They're a little more rare, but those are the really good ones."

That made him smile slowly and she felt for a moment like she was standing on hot coals. Or in a giant oven. She just felt warm suddenly.

"Well, I don't think you're going to have to worry all that much about me being suave." There was some self-deprecation in the crooked, closed-mouth smile and she wanted to stamp it out.

"Chuck, you should know…being suave isn't the same thing as being charming. What I mean is, you don't need to be suave to charm me. You've been doing a pretty good job without it so far."

"Have I been?" He made a 'huh' face, then smiled down at her affectionately. "You're sweet, Sarah. Thanks."

And there was that sincerity, making her feel a little lightheaded. She decided to steer the conversation away from the schmaltz now, and grabbed his hand. "I'm hungry. What are we doing for eats?"

"For eats?" He laughed. "Speaking of _cute_."

She giggled, looking down to hide her slight blush. Being with him made her innately playful, and too many out of character dorky things had come out of her mouth as of late. "Shut up. I'm serious. I only had a cheese plate for lunch. And a banana. I'm hungry. Oh, and a piña colada. But that doesn't count."

"Depends. How _big_ was the piña colada?"

"Oh like…" She held her fingers up a few inches apart. "And…" She showed him the height of the drink.

He wrinkled his nose in amusement, then hurried around her to the coffee table, picking up a menu and thrusting it out for her to take. "Order whatever you want off of here. I'm putting it all on my bill."

"What? No! You've definitely been paying for more stuff than me during this whole…" What was this? A relationship? They hadn't classified it as anything yet. They weren't really dating. There was a permanence to that word…or at least more permanence than Sarah was prepared for. They were having sex. "…thing," she finally settled on. She nearly winced at how it sounded.

But Chuck didn't seem to notice. "So what?"

"So that's not fair."

"We'll even it out eventually. Don't worry about it." He was so completely not bothered by it that she sighed and relented. She really didn't know how well his business was doing, and if it wasn't doing all that well, she didn't like the idea of him spending a bunch of money on her. She wasn't worth it. Especially considering she'd be a non-factor in his life after all of this. And because that wasn't a particularly jolly thought, she shoved it to the back of her mind and sat on the arm of the couch, her eyes roving over the room service menu.

"I've been told by my sister and her fiancé that the room service food is, to quote Devon, 'Awesome!' So I think that no matter what you get, it'll be a safe bet." Chuck shrugged and moved to stand beside her, peering over her shoulder. She loved the feeling of his body pressed against her back.

She settled her mind as best she could and decided to just enjoy. Salmon with capers. Vegetables. Salad. A basket of bread. Roasted tomato pasta.

For now, those were topmost on her thoughts.

—

"Okay, but…just think about it, though, it—"

"I don't want to think about it. I want to watch this movie."

"I—But—"

Sarah reached out and gently put her pointer finger against his lips, smirking at the flat look he sent her. "Shhh. Movie."

He held up his hands in surrender and she melted back into the couch cushions, her legs curled underneath her as she watched the romance unfold on the screen. They were about an hour into their first movie, the cart with all of their dirty dishes from dinner pushed out into the hallway.

They kept the champagne, however.

Sarah leaned forward to pick up her champagne flute, sipping from it and setting it back down again.

Chuck sat about a foot away, staring at the screen, looking less relaxed than she felt, she suddenly realized. He didn't look anxious or anything like that. Just a little…rigid. As though he wasn't comfortable.

Ignoring the movie, she pursed her lips and reached out to nudge his arm with her fist. "You okay?"

He turned to look at her. "Yes. Yes I am. I'm just dandy. Why? What's up?"

"Nothing. I just noticed you don't look very…comfortable."

"Nahh, no. I'm totally—totes. I'm totes comfy."

She snorted and shook her head, turning to face him directly and resting her cheek on the arm she had propped on the back of the couch. "Is it me?"

"What? No, not at all!" He relaxed into the couch and smiled. "See? I'm relaxed."

"Chuck. I'm really good at being able to tell when a person is lying or deflecting. It's part of my job."

When he frowned curiously, she realized the mistake she'd just made and she did her best not to show her terror on her face. "A translator has to know when people are lying?"

"No, that's—that's not what I meant. It's just that I watch body language all day long with a job like that. I've gotten really good at reading body language." She shrugged nonchalantly. "And I can tell you're uncomfortable right now, in this moment," she rushed on, trying to change the trajectory of the conversation.

"Well it isn't you," he said immediately. "It's me."

She frowned. "I thought people only tried that one in bad TV shows."

"No! No, no. I'm sorry!" He twisted to face her, putting his right leg up on the couch so that he could look at her easier. "I just haven't done anything like this in forever. Had a woman over. And this—this is an unconventional situation. And even if it were conventional, I wouldn't really know—it's like, do I put my arm around you? Do we lean together? Or do we just sit and stare at the TV like this?" He gestured between them. "You know what I mean?"

Sarah couldn't help it. She had to laugh at him. But then she felt bad when he turned red as a tomato. "Oh no. No, I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you feel bad," she said, scooting closer and putting a hand on his arm. "I've just never met anybody like you before."

"Woefully inexperienced?" he gaped at him for a second. "Hold on. You actually think you're woefully inexperienced?"

"Is this little scene that I caused right here not evidence of that?" he asked in a droll voice.

"No. I don't think it is." If anyone was woefully inexperienced, it was Sarah. At least when it came to relationships. Whether they were romantic or not. And she could keep telling herself that this wasn't a full-fledged romance. But the more she allowed herself to stop freaking out about it, the more she realized this was already the most romance-y relationship she'd ever been in. After just a few days. And she had no clue how to handle that.

"Chuck, your little problem with not knowing how we should sit on the couch while watching a movie together is perfectly normal. I think. Not that I'm experienced _at all_ ," she felt the need to emphasize.

He obviously didn't believe her. And she found at least one fault with this man. While he was obviously drawn to her for reasons other than just her physical appearance, he still fell prey to the stereotype that a beautiful woman must have many lovers and a lot of experience.

It was simply untrue. She was proof of that.

Granted, the life she lived was very unconventional.

"I'm not just saying that," she said pointedly, giving him a look. "Chuck, my job has taken up so much of my life—my _whole_ life, actually—I really don't have time for anything else. I finish an assignment, I jet off to another assignment, and then another and another…This is the first time in years I've not been assigned to anything for an extended period of time." She shrugged. "So I'm not experienced. If you noticed, I'm sitting all the way over here."

"I feel like this whole conversation is super high school," he said quietly, wincing.

"It really is."

And just as she finished getting the last word out, Chuck scooted closer to her, grabbing her arm and tugging her into his body, gently cupping her face as he kissed her. It wasn't a hard kiss or particularly heated. It was passionate, sweet. It was exactly what they'd needed to break the ice this whole time.

Without places to go and things to do, without the buzz of too much wine or the invigorating night air and a nearby bed to leap into together, it seemed they'd both been unsure. Once dinner was over, they had both turned into shy teenagers without even realizing it.

Once Sarah _did_ realize it, as they pulled back from the kiss and looked into one another's eyes, she decided this was one of the sweetest things that had ever happened to her. Nothing—nobody—had ever reduced Sarah Walker to feeling like a teenager. She'd never felt like a teenager even when she was an actual teenager, for God's sake.

She'd never been allowed. Rather, she'd never allowed herself. She was partly to blame for it.

But this moment right here, as she let a short giggle bubble up from her chest, was one of the most normal things she'd ever experienced. Even as it was extraordinary. It was extraordinarily normal.

She scooted even closer and turned to tuck herself into his side, molding into his body and reaching up to take his arm and drape it around her shoulders. "How's this?" she asked.

There was a short pause, and then a soft, "This is good."

And they stayed that was for the rest of the film, as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. It wasn't until the movie was finished that they realized the entire suite was dark, nothing but moonlight.

They both stood up and started turning on various lamps around the room until Sarah found herself stuck at the window, looking out at the beautiful sight that stretched before her. Her own suite gave her a slightly different angle of the French Riviera, a lower angle. But it wasn't any less beautiful.

She felt him behind her, his reflection faint against the glass in front of her as he folded his arms and stared out at the view.

"I know. Every single night. This is honestly the most beautiful place I've ever been to in my life."

Sarah didn't know the most beautiful place she'd ever been to. She'd never really stopped to look. And suddenly she was filled with melancholy. "This is the first time I've ever had the time to see a place. Really see it."

"Man, you _are_ a workaholic, huh?"

She smiled a little, careful not to let him see the hint of sadness. Missed opportunities. She'd been to places some people would never get to see in their lifetime. She'd seen wonders. But she'd never actually taken the chance to wonder at them.

There was no way in hell she was letting this place pass her by, though.

She decided then and there. In that very moment, standing at the window with Chuck behind her.

No matter what her decision was come Monday, it was ending here. She would enjoy this beautiful city. She would enjoy the beach. She would enjoy the man she'd inadvertently begun to share it all with.

"I was, yeah. Before this."

"Has Nice made you into a changed woman?"

She smirked. "Well, it's made me try new things, that's for sure."

"Like what? For instance."

"Picking up nerds on the beach, for instance."

Sarah laughed happily when he playfully wrapped his arms around her and tickled her, stopping before she had time to retaliate.

"Well, I've never been picked up on a beach," he said. "By anyone. Let alone by a stunning, modeling-contract-worthy blonde who knows 11 languages."

She just smiled, deciding to keep to herself just how many firsts she'd experienced just with him in these last few days. The things she'd told him, the ways she'd let him in where she'd never let _anyone_ in before. The way sex had somehow morphed into something deeper, something so much better, when she was in his arms.

"Hey. So. Idea."

She turned her head to look up at him and let him know she was listening.

"We should play a video game. You don't have to!" he said quickly, squeezing her with his arms a little to emphasize what he was saying. Then he let go and stepped around her, leaning back against the wall. "But I think you'd like it. You seem like the competitive type."

Sarah's jaw dropped. "I seem like the competitive type? Or I could kick your ass!" she said, unable to keep from smiling.

He laughed and shook his head. "I didn't mean it as a bad thing, geeeez! I like that in a woman!" Chuck had his fingers wrapped around her wrists then, pulling her closer. "Fiery!"

She glared a little and then grinned. "Fine. We'll play your silly video games. And I'll destroy you."

"That's the spirit!" he said, laughing as he snuck out from where she had him pinned to the wall. "Right, so… Fighting game? RPG? Shooter? Sports?"

Sarah twisted her lips to the side, looking up at the ceiling and squinting thoughtfully. She thought maybe she'd be pretty good at a shooter. Real life experience and all that. So she shrugged. "Shooter."

"Good choice! Do you want to play one of the super popular shooters like Call of Duty or HALO? Or do you want to play mine?" He backed away from her towards the television where his game console was.

"Yours?" She followed him slowly. "Like, do you mean it's a game _you_ made?"

"Me and my people. They used my plans, my art concepts, my general plot concept, and we all worked together—You know, just to make this easy, I'll say my _company_ made it. Yeah. That's better." He smiled and reached down to pick it up, walking over and thrusting it out in front of her.

"Wallace-16?" She quirked an eyebrow up at him.

"Yeah, it's a multiplayer shooter. You can play online with other people. Or not. There's a storyline, too. But I can start you off with just the two of us on a simple map so that you can get the hang of the controls."

"You just said a whole bunch of stuff that made very little sense to me. But sure. I'll follow your lead."

He chuckled and knelt down to set it up. Sarah's gaze dragged from his curly hair, down his back, and landed on his backside. She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

She mused so long on how much she liked said backside that he nearly caught her staring as he looked at her over his shoulder. Thankfully, she caught his eye quickly and he seemed none the wiser.

"So. There are 16 characters to choose from," he said as the game started.

"Hence the 16 part of the title?"

"Exactly! Boy, you catch on fast." She gave him a flat look and he laughed again.

"What about the Wallace part? What's that?"

"Oh. Right. That. Well." He took a deep breath. "I had a buddy I was close with at Stanford. He was really big on shooters and video games in general, but mostly shooters. And he had this whole idea about a video game of soldiers…warriors, really…who are taken from different parts of the world and sent off to other planets to basically compete in these deadly battles that will eventually avert the annihilation of humankind as we know it. Anyways, that was gonna be the first game we made. But he had a driving accident the summer after I graduated."

Sarah's stomach dropped and the small smile on her face from listening to him talk about the video game faded quickly. "Oh, God," she said quietly. "Chuck, I'm so sorry."

"Nahhh, I mean…it was awhile ago now. Over five years. We all sort of moved on, but this game was his idea. It was his baby. He talked about it to everyone even if they didn't want to hear it." He chuckled as he stood up and looked down at the case. "Made him a little unpopular at parties sometimes."

Sarah giggled at that. "His name was Wallace, huh?"

"Phil Wallace. Thus…Wallace-16."

She didn't really know what else to say. He didn't look like he needed comforting or anything, which meant he probably had made peace with the loss of his friend. Or at least he'd learned to live with it.

"Well, crank it up."

"It's crankin'!"

He grabbed the two controllers and hopped over the coffee table, landing on the couch with a grunt and turned to face the television as he offered her one.

She took it and watched as an emblem slowly appeared on the screen. "SOLO?" she asked. "Is that your company?"

"Yup. Like Han."

She furrowed her brow. "I mean, I know that's a Star thing. Those movies from the 70s. With Harrison Ford and whatnot. But you made that your company name?"

"Yeah. I always told myself I would never name my company after myself. Not my style. So I chose my hero's name. And anyways, it's kinda catchy, don't you think? SOLO Games."

She wasn't that surprised he hadn't named his company after himself.

"You named your video game company after Han Solo." She chuckled and shook her head. "God, you're a nerd."

"I'm not even gonna deny it. You don't even know the full extent yet, and I'm gonna shut up while I'm behind, huh?" He winced and shook his head as the start menu came up.

"You're not behind," she said, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. "Hey, look! Women! Is this one of those games you put female characters in to be more inclusive of women gamers?"

Chuck turned to stare at her for a long moment. "You were actually listening to me when I was rambling about that…?"

"Of course I was. I told you it was interesting. I may not know anything about video games, but I'm a good listener. And I have a memory like a trap. That's also part of the job."

"11 languages," he said, smiling.

"11 languages."

He turned back to set up 2-player Versus Mode. And he chose his character first, a man who looked a little bit like him, except with more facial hair. And maybe more muscle definition. It was a video game, after all. She assumed there weren't very many realistic proportions with these characters. If people get to choose who they play a game as, they're always going to go for the character they want to be the most like. Men choose the muscle-bound manly men. Women…Well, thanks to Chuck, she had seven women to choose from. They all were different heights, had different hair colors. Their was a woman from Japan, a woman from Russia, a woman from Ghana, an American, a Brazilian, a Norwegian, and a New Zealander. They all had different symbols on their armor, epic names, and even cooler helmets they were holding under their arms. She chose

Sarah scrolled to the Norwegian character because of the woman's blond hair and slim build. It helped that she had a lion holding an ax on her helmet. She said that part out loud as she picked the character and watched the screen switch to level settings.

But when Chuck didn't do anything for a few moments, she frowned and turned to look at him.

He was staring, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" she asked, tilting her head.

"No, uh…nothing. You're just…This is going to sound really—You know what, Chuck? Then don't say it. Nothing, never mind."

"Well, now you _have_ t—"

"You're so hot."

She blinked. "…Because I chose the girl who looks like me? You chose the guy who looks like you."

"No, just…The whole lion with the ax thing. I created this character and specifically made her Norwegian because their royal standard is a lion standing on its hind legs holding an ax. I thought it was so tight and I wanted her to be super enveloped in her own culture and super proud of Norway. But also a bad ass. I mean, they're all bad asses. They're warriors going off to another planet to kick alien warrior ass. God, I _am_ a nerd. You're just really hot, that's all. That was the point I was trying to make. You're hot for liking the lion with the ax."

Sometimes she had so much trouble pegging him. Just in general.

"Sorry, it's just—it's bad ass that you like something so…bad ass. And bad ass is hot." He cleared his throat and looked back at the screen. "My sister always picks Serwa, the one from Ghana, because Serwa is also a doctor."

"Ahh yes," Sarah said, smiling. "Your sister would choose the doctor. As she is a doctor."

"Exactly. She's very predictable that way. Okay, ready?"

They started the game and Sarah was a little thrown off by the way the screen split. "Which one am I?" she asked. She couldn't tell because it was first person point of view. All she could see were metallic, gray buildings, dirt ground, some crates, and two hands wrapped around a semi-automatic weapon.

"You're on the bottom. I'm on the top."

"Hmmm…" She smirked, giving him a seductive side-eye. "I prefer being on top."

He choked a little and she felt that satisfaction from winning begin to trickle through her body, but then he gave her a heated look and responded with a deep, "I prefer you on top, too, but unfortunately that's not how the game works."

Could they just skip the video games now and…?

No, she told him she was going to play this video game with him. But God, he basically just told her outright that he liked her on top and if that wasn't the sexiest thing any man had ever said to her, she'd swan dive off of her balcony right now.

"Sarah…Hey…Silje."

She shook her head a little and smirked. He'd called her by her character's name to get her attention. It was cute. "Yes, Remo?" His character was Greek. And she couldn't help but think Chuck himself looked a little Greek. That soft, curly dark hair and brown eyes that went goldish green when he was inside of her.

"The buttons."

She shook herself again. "Right, right. The buttons."

He seemed altogether too pleased with himself for his comeback and the reaction it got from her. She'd let him have it, she supposed, paying attention very closely as he showed her how to shoot, how to switch weapons, how to hit the opponent in what he called "melee attack". He showed her how to jump, run, duck, aim, climb.

And as they got going, he even made himself an easy target for her so that she could take him out. It was sweet how he tried to pretend he wasn't doing it on purpose. But he _created_ this game. He had to be amazing at it.

That wasn't to say he didn't sneak around and knife her in the back a few times, for which he received a beating of his own. He just laughed and threw his hands up to defend himself.

He finally deemed her ready to "go it alone", and signed her in on his own account. She didn't want to fuss with making her own character and her own account. At least that was what she said outwardly.

But Sarah knew if she created her own character and her own account, it would be on his system forever. Or at least until he deleted it. And she wasn't sure she wanted this extraordinary man to cling to the memory of some woman he met during a long vacation in Nice. Not when he could find someone who wasn't an assassin, someone who could settle down. Someone with an actual name that she was actually born with…a birth certificate and an identity. Someone normal and just as good as he was.

So she opted out and instead used his account.

"You sure you don't mind?" she asked for the third time as he talked her through joining an ongoing, open game. "Like, are people gonna recognize who you are and see that you're sucking and your company gets horrible PR? Or what if I mess with your stats or something?"

He simply chuckled and made a face, shaking his head. "I don't give a shit about my stats. You can die 100 times in a row for all I care. I mean, you won't. You're actually super good for only having been playing this for an hour."

"Yeah, but I was only playing against you and you were letting me win. There are like, what, 15 people in here?"

"But it's also a bigger map. And I'm right here next to you. I've got your back. I'll tell you what to do." She sent him a look and he held his hands up in surrender. "If you need me to!" he hurried. "Only if you need me to."

Sarah died immediately and gave him a closed-mouth smile. "Apparently I need you to."

"Nah, that guy is a giant turd. I've gone up against him before. He has pwn and n00bs with zeros instead of o's in his name. That's how you know someone is a douche." That made her laugh, even though she had no idea what the hell any of that meant. "Oh! Hey! See that? You can see his head moving just over the crate."

"I see him."

"Weapon #3. It has a scope."

She followed his advice, aimed, and put a bullet through the Colombian character's helmet. "I did it! I killed him!"

Chuck threw his arms up in celebration. "See? Now don't kill this guy. He's on your team."

"Hey, it's Remo!" She paused. "Wait, aren't you Remo?"

"Well, there are only 16 characters. And you can customize Remo's armor and stuff. So usually all the Remo's have the same face and body and voice, but different armor."

"That makes sense."

She kept playing, ending up killing 6 players on the other team and dying only once. Chuck helped her out, showing her tactics, secret passage ways, how to get up on top of buildings and throw some sort of energy alien grenade down on the enemy below, and then hurrying back down off the roof before the enemy sniper could pick her off.

Just as she was really starting to enjoy it, Chuck's phone rang where it sat on the coffee table. Because she didn't feel entirely comfortable playing without him watching and helping, and because she sincerely didn't want to screw up his stats just in case people knew he was the creator, Sarah figured out how to pull herself out of the game for the time being.

"You don't have to do that," he said, leaning forward to grab his phone. "You can keep playing."

"Um, no. That's fine."

He smirked and she knew he saw right through her nonchalant display. And then he had the phone pressed to his ear. "Hey, El! How's it goin'?"

She heard a feminine voice but couldn't tell what she was saying. El. His sister. She was admittedly curious about the woman who seemed to mean so much to Chuck, who for all intents and purposes had a huge hand in making Chuck the man he was today.

And what a man.

"Mhm. Well, that sounds fun. Tell Awesome I said not to get into another dance off. He almost hurt somebody last time."

Sarah heard an annoyed growl and Chuck giggled, making her smile.

"Uh…noooo, no. Thanks for the invite but, um, I'm good… Because, Ellie. …I don't want to go out to a club as a third wheel. …Ellie, I don't _want_ to meet some random woman at a club. I don't care if she _is_ French." He rolled his eyes dramatically at Sarah and she smiled wider. "Seriously. Sis. Don't worry about me. I'm actually having the time of my life," he said as he looked at her with more meaning than Sarah was altogether prepared for. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest.

Then he paused and his eyes got a lot wider. "Whaaaat? Noooo," he drawled unconvincingly. "I'm not playing video games."

Sarah had to cover her mouth quickly to keep from his sister hearing her laughter and she ended up with a pillow in her face. When she sat up again, she glared dangerously.

Maybe she was fighting with fire, but she was in a playful mood after doing relatively well at Wallace-16, and the champagne hadn't hurt…So she slid up close to him and started tickling his sides, then up under his arms.

He looked terrified for a split second and did his best to fight her off one-handed.

She was a trained killer, though, and a one-handed, sweet-natured, non-violent man had absolutely no defense against her. She was verging on relentless as he tried to continue his conversation with his sister.

"STOP IT," he mouthed, before saying, "Yes well…you two have fun out there on the dance floor."

Sarah continued her tickling as he squirmed and she found a foot pressed against her chest, trying to push her away as he fell onto his back.

"What? Uh, nothing. Just trying to, uh, change my pants. While talking to you. Yeeaah, I've never really been that great at multitas—" He broke off to giggle as Sarah apparently met with his ticklish spot. She would store that knowledge away for future use. "No, no. I'm just laughing because I fell over. …Yeah, yeah, maybe I should hang up so I can get my pants on without killing myself."

Sarah crawled on top of him and mouthed, "Pants _off_ ", causing him to press his lips together in warning, his eyes bulging again.

"Okay have fun bye!"

He hung up and tossed his phone onto the table. The only warning Sarah had for what was coming was a quick flash of vengeance in his brown eyes, and then he flipped them over, ending up on top of her, his weight pressing her into the corner of the couch. His fingers were up her shirt and against her bare skin immediately, tickling her without even an ounce of restraint.

"No!" she yelped, laughing hard and throwing her head back.

She hated even the concept of being tickled. And yes, she'd just done it to Chuck, but…that was different.

She locked her legs around his waist and quickly got a stronghold on both of his wrists, forcing his arms behind his back and holding them there.

Chuck's eyes widened and he glanced back a little before peering down at her. "How the hell are you—Wait I'm gonna sneeze!"

Sarah gasped and let go of him, covering her face to keep from being sneezed on, but she felt his fingers wiggle against her torso relentlessly instead.

"You jerk!" she squealed, laughing uproariously.

"No mercy!" he called out, his grin wild.

As much as she enjoyed feeling his weight on top of her, his hips wriggling against hers, she needed the tickling to stop.

It took her less than two seconds to get him pinned face down to the couch, twisting one of his arms behind his back, a knee pressing into his backside as she leaned over him. She eased up on him immediately, since he wasn't an actual attacker.

A spike of worry went through her. She'd definitely overdone it. He'd think she was insane. He'd be afraid of her.

But then he began to laugh in absolute awe, his cheek was smashed up against the couch cushion. And to think she'd been terrified of his reaction.

Sure, she didn't do anything that could hurt him, but showing her cards like that, showing him what she was capable of…

And here he was laughing. "Holy crap! You're a ninja, too?!"

She eased off of him and let his arm go, letting him turn over and gape up at her as she sat on his legs with a look of satisfaction on her face that she didn't entirely feel. "I'm not a ninja. I've taken a few self-defense classes."

"Well, that was some straight-up ninja shit. And super impressive," he said, rubbing his arm. "Can you show me another one?"

The look on his face was verging on seductive, and she honestly didn't understand this man and the things that seemed to turn him on. Picking video game characters? Getting his ass kicked?

"Try to tickle me ever again, and I'll have no choice."

He surged up, his hands out in front of him, but she'd seen it coming a mile away. She'd practically invited it. So she quickly leapt over his head completely, bracing her hand against his shoulder to turn in the air, then brought her arm around his neck, catching him in a gentle chokehold as she landed on her knees on the other side of him.

"Hckkkk! Wow, okay," he wheezed, but then he struggled against her, laughing and turning to try to pin her. He was adorable but so bad at this. Granted, he was much stronger than she had anticipated and was putting up a good fight.

They were tangled together on the couch for a few minutes, wrestling and laughing.

She would end up on top, sitting on his chest, and then he would flip her to the other end of the couch and scramble over to pin her down, holding her arms above her head.

Sarah laughed, squirming against him to get more comfortable on the couch. "You think I can't get out of this?"

"Ten minutes ago I would've said no, but now I'm pretty sure ya can," he said, and she could feel him breathing, his chest heaving as he rested his weight on her.

"That's a pretty safe answer, there, Chuck."

"Well, I'm a pretty safe guy."

There was something underneath that, whether he knew it or not. He _was_ safe. But not in a bad way. Chuck Bartowski had proven himself to be an incredibly thoughtful, selfless guy. Warm. Kind. Caring. Giving. All of the components to make a girl feel safe with him. And Sarah did feel safe with him, even if the things he was making her feel were potentially dangerous.

She couldn't allow herself to get buried in his charms. He just had so many charms. More than all the men she'd known before him put together. And then some. But if she lost herself in this, if she allowed for thoughts of a potential future to sneak in, it would cloud her judgment. She couldn't let that happen.

It might ruin both their lives.

And yet, she wouldn't stop this. She couldn't. The right thing would be to get out of here while she still had the strength, hide from him for the next few days, meet Graham's informant, and disappear. But she couldn't do it.

Maybe she could.

And it was simply that she didn't want to.

Instead, she wanted to feel him against her, she wanted the laughter, she wanted to play video games with him hovering over her shoulder and pointing out the bad guys, and she wanted to keep seeing that smile he gave her in quiet moments. A real, sincere smile without the bells and whistles of the spy game.

Was she selfish? Yes.

And as she started to struggle against him, trying to loosen his grip on her wrists, she found she didn't care all that much.

All it took was a quick swivel of her hips, a leg wrapped over him, and a powerful throw of her weight, before he was the one yelping and ending up on his back.

He laughed, shaking his head with an impressed look on his face. "You seriously are the sexiest woman I've ever known. Hot damn."

"Did you just say 'hot damn' to me?" she asked, cracking up. She sat up at the end of the couch and put a hand on her chest as she continued to laugh.

"Shut up, it's a compliment."

"I know, I'm sorry," she said through her laughter, reaching out to put a hand on his shin and squeeze. "I just haven't heard anyone say hot damn…ever. At least not since the nineties."

He gave her a flat look and sat up to face her. Again, she got a brief flash of warning when his eyes turned mischievous for a split second before he pounced on her, tugging her down to lie beneath him on the couch as he worked to pin her arms to her sides.

She let him, even though she could've employed numerous tactics to get him on his back again. They stayed that way, his hands holding her wrists to her sides, his weight causing her to sink into the cushions comfortably, their legs tangled together.

As she looked up at him, the air felt like it was charged with more than just playfulness or competition. It was an immediate heat that spilled over her, and he must have felt it, too, because he met her halfway when she leaned up to kiss him.

They came together hard and fast, and when he let go of her arms, she buried a hand in his hair and rounded his shoulders with her other arm.

Their playful wrestling session _would_ turn into sex. Like a typical romantic comedy. But she didn't care, not with the way his hand snuck between their bodies and cupped her breast over her shirt and bra. And when his tongue licked over her lips, she sighed and opened her mouth to him, rocking her hips against his.

It took him a bit of time to get her shirt unbuttoned, as he seemed to be taking care of it for some odd reason. Or maybe he was purposefully slowing things down. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy the painstaking path his lips were making down her chest and abdomen as he undid each button from top to bottom. And then he opened his mouth at her belly button and licked over her skin, earning a heady whimper at the sensations.

Sarah took things in her own hands, then, sitting up slightly to shrug her shirt off and immediately unclasping her bra to toss that to the side as well, leaving her totally naked from the waist up. And then she set her fingers to his shirt, undoing the buttons she'd just done up a few hours ago when she first arrived and he came out looking like a 1980s sex symbol.

As she worked at undressing him, he dove forward and captured her breast in his mouth. Sarah's head tilted back with a sigh and a wide grin, still trying to push his shirt over his shoulders to rid him of it.

But he was just too good with his mouth and she gave up on the shirt, leaving it still clinging to his biceps as he pulled her body to his, opening his mouth even further and flicking her nipple with his tongue.

She whimpered and hugged his head closer, shutting her eyes and enjoying the way his hands gripped the muscles in her back.

Chuck lowered her to lie back against the couch cushions again, stripping himself of the shirt and immediately undoing the front of her jeans. That sound of the zipper sliding down so slowly, the feeling of his mouth just on the waistline of her panties…She felt a bit of wildness deep down inside of her begin to come out.

She arched her hips as he snuck his fingers under the waistband.

He peeled her jeans and panties down her legs, dropping them to the floor next to the couch, before standing up to push his own pants down and step out of them.

Sarah stared at him, taking the time to run her blue eyes over ever last curve of muscle and warm, tan skin, the hair on his body, watching as he climbed back over her, a pillow in his hand. He gently lifted her head and pushed the pillow beneath it, raising his eyebrows in question and seeming satisfied with her nod.

Then his weight was against her again, the heat of his naked body melding with her own, their chests pressing together as her nipples hardened to points against his pecks. He pressed his hand between them and stroked his fingers down her front, sliding them over her entrance, probably to get her wet.

It wasn't necessary.

She was practically on fire for him the moment he started undressing her.

He pulled his hand away and kissed her.

This time when he entered her, he was propped up on his elbows, peering down into her face, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction as he gently pushed deeper and deeper.

Sarah whimpered and bent her legs a little at his waist, dragging her hands down his back and clinging to him at the delicious curve right above his ass. "That's it," she whispered, moaning his name.

He moved slowly, and she was easily able to match his rhythm with gentle strokes of her own. Arching his back, he kissed her, and neither of them felt the need to pull away for quite some time as they thrusted together.

Sarah's hand slipped down of its own volition to grab his ass, kneading it in time with his thrusts, and he whimpered into the kiss. He pulled his face away from hers and propped himself up again.

And when he reached down to grab her leg that wasn't pressed against the couch back, wrapping his arm behind her knee and bending it back so that her thigh was pressed against her torso, she felt his cock slide deeper inside of her.

"Oh _yes_!" she gasped. She knew she must look ridiculous as she opened her mouth wide in ecstasy and whimpered his name, but she didn't care. It just felt so amazing.

Then he shifted to press his right foot against the floor next to the couch, turning her body so that her ass was on the edge of the cushion, still holding her leg up, and he started making his thrusts harder. "Ah! Sarah!"

She whined his name, reaching up with one hand to twist her fingers in the pillow under her head, and grabbing at Chuck's bicep with the other.

All she could do was hold on as he started pounding into her, squirming in absolute bliss, biting her lip and whimpering.

With such a quick and powerful pace, Sarah was quick to reach her climax, crying out and slamming her fist against the arm of the couch behind her head when it crashed over her.

He stroked her body and kissed the swell of her breasts over and over, easing her down from her climax before pulling himself out of her and slumping to his knees next to the couch, letting her leg down and resting his forehead against her thigh.

"Ooooh, shit," she breathed, covering her face with her hands. Sarah peered down at Chuck and pushed a hand through his hair, smiling to herself at the deliciously pleased look on his face. She just wanted to stay like this forever. Stay with him forever.

But that thought was too dangerous, and in highly pleasurable, physical moments like this, it was best to avoid dangerous thoughts.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Next chapter continues very soon after this one ends, so stay tuned!

Please review. I appreciate it!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	9. Nerd In Training

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** It has been way too long and I apologize, but real life things happened and I couldn't find the time to focus on this story. Hopefully that's all behind me and I can focus more on this. Thanks for being patient, everyone, and I hope I haven't lost any readers in the meantime.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this story.

* * *

Chapter 9: **_Nerd In Training_**

"How do you suppose they get strawberries _this_ good?" she heard Chuck ask.

She stood at the bar, fixing them drinks with some club soda and gin. It was definitely a gin night. She had gin when she felt the most relaxed. But she knew she had to be careful with the alcohol. It was only 9:30. She didn't want to be so relaxed with the drinks and sitting around playing video games all day that she had to go back to her room at 10 o'clock to sleep like an old woman.

She looked over her shoulder at him and let herself take the shirtless man standing with his back to her in, watching as the muscles in his shoulders moved as he picked up another chocolate-covered strawberry and took a bite, licking his lips.

"It has to do with when they're picked. Those were probably picked today if they're _that_ good. If you buy strawberries at a supermarket in America, say, those have been picked early and continue to ripen as they're shipped off to wherever they're going. But it still makes the strawberry less tasty."

"Well, I've never had a not tasty strawberry, so I'd say it doesn't really matter, but this strawberry was grown by the gods, I swear."

"And it's also covered in chocolate," she giggled, walking over to him with a drink in each hand. "Pick one."

"Are they the same?"

"Mhm."

He took one and paused, gnawing on his lip a little. Then he leaned forward to kiss her just beside her lips before turning away again. Sarah blinked at the back of his head, gaping a little. Why'd that feel so intimate, when all he did was kiss the corner of her mouth? It wasn't even a proper kiss. Why was her heart racing then?

She forced her mind to take a detour away from that and she took him in from his head to his toes as he finished his strawberry. He was in just his brown pants and nothing else. He looked so relaxed and at home in this hotel suite, and she found herself wondering what his actual home was like back in LA. Did he have a bachelor pad, covered in dorky memorabilia maybe? With a surround sound system and a massive television where he played his video games? Was there a fully stocked bar? Did he walk around shirtless a lot when he was home alone? Or everything-less, perhaps?

That warmth came over her again and she shifted her weight a little to peer over his shoulder at the strawberries. Feeling a little peckish and needing something to distract her from the image in her mind, she reached around with her free hand to nab one for herself, causing him to jump. "Oh sorry, lemme move—"

He backed into her hand holding the drink as he attempted to get out of her way, causing it to spill all over her front, immediately seeping into her bra. She gasped and backed away, looking down with wide eyes.

"Shit!" He was in front of her immediately, taking what was left of the drink and setting it on the tray. "Oh my God! I'm sorry! I'm such an idiot! Lemme get a towel!"

She simply laughed, even though it was a little sticky and uncomfortable having gin pool in her bra and start to make its way down her belly. "It's okay, Chuck."But he looked genuinely distressed as he rushed to the bathroom and emerged again with a towel in his hands. "Seriously, I fail so hard. I shouldn't be allowed to have spillable things." He dabbed at her front ineffectively and she gently took the towel out of his hands, stepping close to put her hand on his shoulder.

"Chuck, it's okay. It happens. It's not like it was beet juice or something that'll stain. I'll just take these down to get them laundered tomorrow and they'll be good as new." She paused, trying to dry under her shirt. And then she realized she should just take the shirt off altogether, which she did.

But the gin was still sticky. She could feel it drying in the worst way on her skin.

She didn't want to go back down to her room to shower. She was afraid the spell of the night would be broken by the time she came back up. And she wouldn't be able to get whatever this delicious feeling was back.

"Would it be okay—I mean, would you mind if I used your shower?"

Chuck swallowed thickly, before quickly shaking his head. "Of course I wouldn't. God, I'm so sorry. Really."

"It's okay," she said again, attempting to reassure him. "I'm not mad, Chuck. I promise."

"I know you aren't, but I still feel like a dumb ass."

"Please don't. I'll just rinse off the gin and it'll be fine."

"What about your clothes, though? I mean, you can't just walk around here naked—Well, you can. If you want to. You don't have to. I'm not saying—What I mean is—"

"Chuck?"

"Yes."

I felt like I should do him a favor by cutting him off there. It was the right thing to do even though I would've liked to see where he ended up with that.

"Lemme borrow a shirt or something and I'll be fine. It didn't get on my underwear, just my shirt, bra, and pants."

He blinked. "Oh. Right!"

She turned away from him and walked towards his bedroom, stopping in the doorway to look over her shoulder and smirk. "Don't go anywhere."

"No, I won't. I'll just…be here. I'll make another drink for ya."

"Um…that's okay, I don't really need a drink." She made a face and he chuckled, even though she could see he was still embarrassed.

A minute later as she stepped into his shower, she let the jet slam into her body, careful to keep her hair from getting wet. It felt so good that she maybe took longer than she meant to. In fact, she was in the process of getting lost in how good it felt when she heard a knock on the bathroom door.

Nearly dropping the soap, she jumped a little and opened her eyes, blinking. For a split second, she'd forgotten she was in Chuck's bathroom and not her own. "U-Uh, yes?" she called out, raising her voice.

"Sorry, I just…do you want my shirt now? Or later?" she heard Chuck ask, his voice a little unsure and tentative.

"You can just set it on the counter. Oh, and…I didn't think about a towel. Do you have an extra one?"

The door swung open then and she blanched a little bit. It wasn't like Chuck hadn't seen her naked before, and anyways, the steam had fogged up the glass door pretty well. But she had never shared her shower time with anyone else. It was a personal, private thing.

But then she smiled as she glanced over at Chuck. Because he entered with his eyes shut, blindly feeling around for the counter with one hand, a shirt and towel in his other hand. The unsettled feeling she'd had a moment ago was gone. "Chuck, you don't have to close your eyes. It's nothing you haven't seen before."

He carefully opened his eyes, but still didn't look directly at her. "I know. I just…You know, privacy. So there's my shirt and, uh, the extra towel. I'll be out there trying to get gin out of the carpet. So take your time."

Sarah giggled softly, swiping at the door to be able to see him a little better. "Hey. Chuck."

He finally looked at her.

"Thank you." She didn't know if he recognized the deeper meaning there, the fact that she was thanking him not just for bringing her a dry shirt and a towel but also for instinctively respecting her privacy. He simply nodded and ducked out of the bathroom.

She turned off the shower not a minute after he left, stepping out to dry herself quickly, pull her panties back on, and pick up the neatly folded shirt he'd left on the counter. She unfolded it and held it up in front of her. It had the Union Jack on it, with a motorbike's silhouette imprinted over it. She shrugged and tugged the black T-shirt on.

Folding her towel neatly, she walked out of the bathroom and into the room where Chuck was, pulling the hair tie out and letting her golden locks fall over her shoulders.

She spotted Chuck on his hands and knees with a hand towel pressed against the floor, but he wasn't focused on it anymore. His brown eyes were staring at her, his mouth gaping a little. "Uh…I…" He shook himself a little, licked his lips and went back to work. "I think I got it out. The drink, I mean. You can't see it. So that's good. It's all clean and stuff. Yeah."

Sarah inwardly smiled and crossed the room to look down as he moved the towel away. "You did good work."

"Well, thanks. When your best friend is kind of a toddler, you learn how to clean up messes."

She furrowed her brow at him.

"Sorry, that's mean. My best friend isn't a toddler. He's my age. Well, 27 now. He's a few months older than me. But Morgan spills a lot, is what I'm saying. He's like…the type of guy who when everybody gets up from the table after a meal, you can tell where he was because there are crumbs all over and a red wine spot on the tablecloth. Anyways!"

Chuck scrambled up to his feet and smoothed his hands down the front of his pants. He still hadn't put his shirt back on, which she appreciated greatly. Because it meant she could step up close to him and put a hand on his chest, gently playing with the smattering of hair…like she was doing currently.

"I think I will have a drink, actually," she decided, fully aware of the look she was giving him.

"I'll make 'em. And I'll leave yours sitting on the bar, so that I don't pour it all over you again." He grinned, his nose wrinkled in a wince.

"No, it's okay," she giggled. "I'll make it. Eat some more strawberries."

Sarah made short work of the drink, bringing the one she'd made him earlier over. He made a production out of very carefully reaching over to pluck it from her fingers and cradling it carefully to his chest with both hands. She just laughed and shook her head.

"Ellie called again while you were in the shower. I'm pretty sure she's buzzed. And she also said she found a woman named Angelique who is very interested in me. So there's that."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at that, sipping her gin. "Really? Angelique, hm? She French?"

"Sounds like it. Yes. But I pretended like I couldn't hear her when Ellie put her on the phone. I'm probably gonna get fried for it tomorrow, but eh."

"Wait, wait." She chuckled a little. "Ellie put her on the phone to talk with you?"

"Mhm. Yes. Yes, she did. Angelique sounds nice enough, but I'm not interested." He walked around to the couch and plopped down onto it, still cradling his drink carefully…Adorable.

Sarah followed and sat next to him, pursing her lips to keep from showing how pleased his words made her. "You're not? She is probably pretty gorgeous if she's French and at a club on a Wednesday night in Nice, _and_ your sister thought to set you up with her. Your sister who obviously cares about your well-being more than anyone, it sounds like. And you're not interested?"

She knew that she was fishing, that she wanted him to say why he wasn't interested. Maybe she'd lost her soul a long time ago, but she was still human; she was still a woman who enjoyed being flattered by a man who'd since proven he had good judgment.

"Well, I didn't come here to meet some random woman at a club. I _especially_ didn't come here to have my sister meet some random woman at a club and call me to make me talk to her." Sarah giggled a little at the face he made. "So there's that. I know Ellie means well, and she only really gets this pushy when she has enough alcohol or she's super tired. And it's probably both. Because she usually has a better filter. She isn't always like this."

Sarah smiled, tucking her bare legs up underneath her and facing him. "So what you're saying is…?"

"What I'm saying is…Even if you weren't here, even if I hadn't met you a few days ago, that sort of thing just isn't my style."

"Oh, but meeting a woman on the beach is different?"

"Yes." He furrowed his brow. "Wait, no. I don't know. _You're_ different."

Biting her lip, she diverted her gaze down to her drink, swirling it a little in the glass, then looking back up at him through her eyelashes. "How so?"

"I don't know. You just are. I'm not really making my point, am I?"

"I mean, not really, but that's oka—"

He'd set his drink down and quickly moved in to kiss her. She had the wherewithal to hold onto her own drink securely, knowing that spilling it again would really dampen things this time, in more ways than one. His lips were so gentle, lacking the pressure or the desire they usually had when he kissed her. He dotted her lips with soft kisses, barely even touching her as he ghosted his mouth over hers. And with capable fingers, he plucked her drink out of her hand and quickly leaned over to put it on the coffee table, before he came right back to her, wrapping his arms around her and leaning her back against the cushions.

His attentions were still so very gentle, almost as if he was worshipping her, his lips dotting down her jaw, over her neck, back up again. It continued like this for awhile, until she was completely breathless, moved by his show of unending tenderness.

Until Chuck finally propped himself up over her and reached up to push a few wisps of hair away from her face. "Apparently my words aren't working right now, which isn't exactly new for me." His lips cracked a small crooked smile. And then he became serious again. "So if it's okay, I'd like to show you."

How could she say no? She had no idea what that even meant, but how could she say anything but yes? Even so, her words seemed to not be working either, so instead, she just nodded, swallowing thickly. He smiled just slightly, then lowered his lips to hers again.

He kissed her a little harder, and she felt his fingers drift down her sides, ghosting over the swells of her breasts. He stroked underneath the shirt he let her borrow, his hands cool from holding their drinks. She shivered and let out a soft sigh, until she felt his fingers dip into the waistline of her panties.

Oh, he wanted to _show_ her. Well.

She bit her lip as he angled his body off of hers to slide her panties down her legs and set drop out of the way. She reached over tucked her own fingers into the waistline of his pants, sliding them around to the front and giving him a teasing, wanton tug, before undoing the button there.

But he gently closed his hand over both of hers and pushed them away, shaking his head slowly.

She tilted her head in curiosity, but then he slid off of the couch, lowering himself to kneel on the floor in front of her. He wrapped his fingers around her hips, pulling her close so that her ass was perched on the edge of the cushion.

Oh God. Oh God he wasn't.

Oh _God_ he _was._

He slid his arm under her right leg to prop the back of her thigh on his left shoulder, then moved his right hand up to press his thumb against her clit, moving it in gentle circles. She let out a long breath, tilting her torso so that she could watch as he licked his lips before moving in to kiss her sex.

"Ohhhh," she moaned under her breath as he did more than simply kiss her. His tongue pressed against her slit, his lips caressing her. He, for all intents and purposes, dove headfirst into it. Using every part of his mouth to pleasure her, he also continued to rub his thumb over her clit. She arched herself into his face, clenching her ass and gasping his name.

She didn't even know what to do. So she lifted her right hand up to press her fist into the back of the couch, closing her teeth over her left knuckles and whimpering. It just felt so good. And when he hummed deliciously into her center, she felt warmth flood through her, chills cascading over her entire body, and she clung to the cushion next to her hip with her left hand.

"Nnnng," she whined, her voice a little strangled.

He teased her entrance with his tongue, before gently guiding it inside of her, licking her inner walls as best he could.

"Ahh! Oh, _God_ Chuck," she gasped, hitting her fist against the couch and arching into his mouth again.

Chuck pulled her closer then, burying his face even further in her crotch, starting to move his face back and forth quickly, sucking and licking, tasting her. Sarah moved her left hand and draped it over his head, unconsciously curling her fingers in his hair and giving him a little tug. He growled and she grit her teeth, hissing his name in need.

Nobody had ever done this before.

It was just so one-sided.

She'd never been with a man who cared to give _her_ pleasure if he wasn't also getting it at the same time. The entire concept was totally unknown to her. She knew there were women out there who'd experienced oral pleasure, but had never even _thought_ about it ever happening to her.

God, she'd been missing out. Then again, she was glad. She was glad this was her first time. Because it was Chuck and—"Oh _God_ , yes! So good," she gasped. "Oh, it's _so good_."

It went on for such a long time, as he licked her all the way to the precipice of her finish before easing her back down again, and then to the edge, back a little, to the edge once more. It continued like this, Sarah gasping for breath, squirming. The toes of her left foot curled over the edge of the coffee table, and the toes of her right foot pressed against Chuck's back.

"God, Chuck. Oh, please," she breathed, looking down her body to watch him work. She slammed her head back against the cushion, arching her body up. She was at the edge again, and more than she'd ever wanted anything else in her life, she wanted him to let her topple over this time. She needed to feel it. "Please, I'm almost there," she whimpered. "Let me. Chuck, please," she begged.

He moved his hand so that he had two fingers pressed to her clitoris, and he started rubbing her quick and hard, moving his head up and down, his tongue lapping at her vigorously.

She moaned his name and arched her body again, crying out as her climax fell over her like a tidal wave. She took a couple of heavy breaths, tugging on his hair, her entire body clenched as the sensations crashed through her. It felt better than anything she'd ever felt in her life.

"Chuuuuuck." Her voice left her in a strangled outcry. "Oh God," she gasped, over and over again, letting her body fall back against the couch, trying so hard to catch her breath. Stars danced in her vision as she draped a hand over her forehead. "Oh my _God_."

She nearly whimpered as she felt his mouth move away from her, and the way the cool air against her wetness felt as he pulled back to rest on his haunches, gently easing her leg off of his shoulder and caressing her thigh with the backs of his fingers.

"Thank you," she breathed, without even knowing where it came from. That made her giggle deep in her chest, covering her face with both hands as she blushed.

He chuckled and she felt him climb up to the couch. He lifted her long legs, sat down next to her, draping them back over his lap, still moving his fingers over her soft, warm skin that was currently covered in goosebumps thanks to what he'd just done to her.

"You're welcome."

When Sarah felt she'd fully recovered from her short spell of shyness, she pushed her hands through her hair and let out a long breath, smiling and humming. "Angelique is missin' out."

That made him laugh, and she spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks as he looked down and squeezed her leg. "Well, I'm not sure about that. Like you said, she's probably gorgeous, and she's at a club in Nice on a Wednesday night. I think she'll be okay."

"Will you be okay?"

She didn't really know how that had come out of her mouth. Maybe the aftereffects of Chuck eating her out so determinedly that caused her lips to loosen, her filter to weaken.

He furrowed his brow and looked over at her curiously.

And she realized a little belatedly how intimate this was for two people who didn't really know one another very well. Sarah with her legs draped over his lap, asking about his well being and actually being completely sincere, the conversation that was potentially going to happen because of it. It was really intimate. And she squirmed a little at the realization, trying not to let it show on her face.

Chuck seemed to miss it, instead chewing his lip and looking at the coffee table thoughtfully.

"I just mean…" she continued. "Well, I don't know your sister. Will she be mad at you tomorrow for ignoring her?"

"Oh. Not sincerely, no. She'll needle me a little. But Awesome's usually got my back. He's…awesome like that." He smiled, mostly to himself. "Disclaimer: Ellie really isn't as bad as I'm making her sound. I mean, that whole stereotypical romantic comedy mom type of thing where she's trying to shove me into women's arms. Not that she hasn't set me up with people. She has. Trust me. And mostly because I asked her to. When I was desperate." He chuckled.

"And how'd that go?"

"I got to a second date with one of them, and then I let the inner nerd out, and date three was indefinitely postponed." Chuck looked a little embarrassed.

"Oh, come _on._ She was put off by _that_? Of all things?"

He swiveled to face her, looking offended. "Of _all_ things?! Thanks a lot!"

She laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. Stop." Sarah knuckled his arm. "I just mean that's a shallow and silly reason not to want to date someone. Because they…" She paused then, tilting her head. "What exactly did you say? I mean, what was it that you think scared her off?"

Chuck was quiet for a few seconds, gnawing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed. And then he turned to look at her. "You don't _really_ think I'm dumb enough to talk about it with you, do you?"

She was curious for a moment, until she caught his meaning and grinned. "Trying not to scare me off, too, is that it?"

"Um. Duh."

"Duh," she mocked quietly, smiling up at him still and reaching over to hook a finger in one of the belt loops of his pants. She didn't think anything of how affectionate of a gesture it was, instead focusing on Chuck. "Tell me."

"Nope. Not happening."

"I'm just gonna assume the worst, then."

"Go ahead and assume. It's not gonna be as bad as the truth, probably. And now I'm shutting up because I can see that curious glint in your eye just turned into a roaring fire."

That made her laugh. In fact, it was almost a cackle. And she gave the belt loop on his pants a teasing tug again. "Fine, I'm gonna assume your bed at home is in the shape of a race car. With round pillows that have a steering wheel pattern on them." She pursed her lips.

Chuck laughed sincerely, clapping his hand over her knee and leaning down a little closer to her. "Nope. But I have to admit, that does sound really cool."

Her laughter came straight from the center of her chest, and she found herself reveling in how happy it sounded. "You _are_ a nerd."

"Never denied it."

"Fine, your bed is a pirate ship."

"Again, that sounds awesome. But no."

She screwed her face up thoughtfully. "Okay, I give up. Tell me."

Chuck just looked incredibly amused, and a touch impressed as well. "Wow, you're good." She put her best innocently confused look on her face. "You are _so_ good. I didn't say I'd tell you if you couldn't guess. You just started guessing on your own. But if I were less bright, I would've fallen right into that trap you set for me."

Sarah preened a little. "Guess I underestimated you, Chuck."

"People always do." He held up his finger and pointed at her, winking.

"I'll do my best to never do it again." She paused. "So tell me. What'd you do that was so awfully nerdy?"

Chuck shook his head with a huff of laughter. "Only because I admire your determination, I'll tell you." Chuck paused dramatically. "I was telling her about how I got us a reservation at this restaurant downtown at such short notice. And I mentioned my DM was the chef."

Sarah blinked. "DM? Designated marksman?"

Chuck blinked this time. "Did you just…military lingo at me?"

Sarah blinked again. "Uhh." Shit! "I've watched a lot of history channel. So what?"

"No…nothing, I…wow."

"If it's not that, what is it?" she asked quickly, trying to push the idea of her being well-versed in "military lingo" out of his head indefinitely. She felt so stupid for letting that slip.

"Dungeon master."

"A…dungeon…master? Are you a part of some BDSM cult or something?"

"What?! No!"

"That's not exactly nerdy, Chuck, but I'm not gonna lie, it _is_ a little…different."

"No! I'm not…not _that_ kind of dungeon!" Sarah had a really hard time trying to keep from bursting into laughter. And when she sniffed in amusement, trying to turn her face to hide it, he seemed to finally figure out she was teasing. His face was entirely _un_ amused. Although…maybe not entirely because his eyes were sparkling in mirth, even as he looked a touch embarrassed. "Haa haaa," he drawled, curling his lip at her as she giggled with her tongue between her teeth.

"What's a dungeon master?" she asked again, tugging his belt loop one more time.

"You really don't know?"

She shrugged a little shyly.

"Have you ever heard of Dungeons & Dragons?"

"Is it a movie? Because I'm not very good with pop culture. I've only seen a few really old things. Bits of movies here and there." There were times in the past when the assassin'd had a few hours to kill and had found herself wandering into a movie theater or two. But general movie knowledge escaped her completely.

"It isn't. No. It's more of a, um, it's a game. You get to be on a team with other players, you choose fantastical creatures with certain skill sets—say, a dwarf that's also a fighter or an elf that's a healer—and you go through these maps that your dungeon master creates. With a storyline he or she creates as well. There are dice. Um…"

Sarah just watched him as he explained, shrugging as his voice faded and he simply blinked at her.

"So this—this woman your sister set you up with…She didn't go on a third date with you because she found out you play this game?"

Chuck nodded slowly, almost gaping at her. She frowned a little in question and he shook his head. "Sorry, it's just…You really don't get just how much of a stigma goes with Dungeons & Dragons, do you?"

"A stigma? It's just a game, isn't it? What's the big deal?" She didn't understand why a person would legitimately stop seeing someone like _Chuck_ of all people because he played a silly game. Stigma or not. Who the hell would let such a ridiculous thing make them dump a man like this?

He smiled a little, running his hand down her shin to her ankle and squeezing it. "I somehow like you a thousand times more than I did five minutes ago. That's saying something, Sarah Walker, because I already liked you quite a bit." She bit her lip to keep her bashfulness at his words from showing. She didn't like this shy Sarah so much, the one who blushed and ducked her head. It was too…real, maybe. She didn't know. It was just unsettling how easily he made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling.

"Dungeons & Dragons tends to have certain, erm, images that go along with it."

Sarah shook her head, ignoring the buzzing still lurking in her chest. "What images are we talking here?"

"A bunch of socially handicapped guys arguing over fate points, or which door to open, or which monster to attack first. Slobbering over the picture of the succubus in the Monster Manual."

"Succubus?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

His eyes lit up just a tad as he turned to face her better. "They're female daemon who look like incredibly gorgeous human women except with wings and little horns. They can seduce even the lawful good into committing evil acts, and they can literally drain a player's experience level by kissing them. And I mean the Monster Manual—any D&D guide, really—is written and illustrated by dudes typically so of course the succubus is drawn like…" He held his hands out in front of his chest and she snorted.

"Pamela Anderson daemon with wings and horns, is what you're saying."

"Basically."

She marveled at him as he rattled off facts about this succubus creature from this game she'd never heard of. She wasn't sure if she was shocked by how _big_ of a nerd he apparently was, or if she was impressed he knew this much. Perhaps the large-breasted drawings of the creature had beguiled him as well. He was a man. A good one, but still…one.

"Well. I don't know what exactly counts as being super nerdy, so I can't really judge the extent of nerdiness that goes along with playing a game like Dungeons & Dragons. Even if it was the nerdiest thing in the world, that's not gonna make me get up, put my gin-soaked pants on, and run back to my room. I don't know what that girl was smoking, but it wasn't anything good. Not if she passed up a date with a guy like you for something as idiotic as finding out you play a certain game with your friends." She tried to imagine him sitting at a table rolling dice with a bunch of men who looked similar to him, all wearing nerdy T-shirts and arguing over monsters and doors and…fate points, did he say? What were those? She didn't much want to ask even if she was curious. It was something she could always look up later.

"Honestly, I wasn't too bothered by it. For that reason. Maybe it's a little childish of me to play a game like that at my age, but it's more childish for her to not want to see me anymore because of it." He shrugged and she couldn't help but smile a little at him. He seemed to have such a strong sense of himself.

And yet, at other times, he seemed to stumble a bit, like he wasn't so sure after all.

He was so endearingly human.

"Playing that game isn't childish," she said easily. "It's nerdy. For sure. But I'm starting to think nerdy can be a really good thing."

Chuck let out a huff of amusement. "Really?"

He sounded pretty doubtful and she yearned to nip that in the bud. "Yes. Really. I mean, after all, you're a nerd, aren't you?"

He snorted. "Uh. No…Whatever gave you that idea?"

Sarah laughed and poked him in the belly with her toe, making him wrap his hand around her ankle to pull her foot a safe distance away. She giggled and tried to poke him with the other, but he caught that one, too, sending her a look.

"Hey, if you spend enough time around me, I'll probably end up making you a nerd, too," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Ha!" She scoffed. "There is no chance of me ever becoming a nerd, thanks. You can keep it."

That made him chuckle. "I thought you said you're starting to think nerdy can be a really good thing. Huh? Huuuh?"

Sarah pulled her legs out of his lap and swung them around to sit up properly on the couch, leaning in close and resting her elbow on the back of the couch behind him, propping her cheek on her palm.

"Because you make it that way. I wouldn't be able to wear it as well. Alas."

He chuckled again. "That's not true."

"It is!"

"No, you'd be an incredibly adorable nerd." He pointed to the game console and smiled quietly. "You dominated that game, Sarah. That was pretty nerdy."

"It's my nerd coach's influence."

"Nerd coach, huh? Is that a thing now?"

"Mhm. I can totally see you going to the nerd Olympics with your nerd team and coaching them to the gold medal of…nerddom."

He chortled, his head falling back. "That was prime nerd right there. What you just did? Nerd. You are a very capable nerd. I'd tag you to captain my nerd team."

Sarah just shook her head and laughed. "Keep dreaming, Chuck. Never gonna happen."

They met eyes and smirked similarly, before Sarah found herself wanting to just be close to him. Touch him. Something more intimate than this.

And because she wasn't altogether versed in intimacy, _real_ intimacy, she did what came a little more naturally to her. She swung her leg over to straddle him and seduced him instead. This was easy. Kissing him, cupping his face, feeling the way his hands draped over her ass and slid up under his shirt that she wore.

This was easy. Reaching between them and undoing his pants, letting him hoist his body off of the couch enough to push his pants and boxers down to his thighs. It was so damn easy taking him in her fist and stroking him until he was hard enough for her to guide him inside of her.

Anything else would've been difficult. It wasn't easy, figuring out what to say and what to do, when it wasn't something like this. Sex. Letting her body talk for her. Pulling him under her spell, riding him gently at first, and then gyrating harder, faster. His voice in her ear, sighing her name as she started to buck in his lap, holding onto his shoulder.

His breath was hot against her neck, damp, panting breaths on her skin that only made everything feel that much better. She felt so good, in fact, that all Chuck had to do was slid his hand over her backside and squeeze, and she felt an orgasm roll through her. She powered through it, her body shivering in his arms, moaning into his hair, her eyes shut tightly. She just kept going, swinging her hips, pushing herself down into his lap, tightening her ass with each thrust.

Chuck's head fell back against the couch and he whimpered, his mouth opened, his face set in complete awe as she reached behind her to grab his hands from where they were fisting the shirt she wore, pulling his arms away and pinning his wrists against the couch on either side of his shoulders.

She leaned in closer and rode him even harder, spreading her knees against the cushions, giving the underside of his jaw an open-mouthed kiss that had him groaning her name. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her, his hands making fists, his hips thrusting up to meet her. There was something so desperate in the way he was moving against her, and she knew he was close.

So she slowed her thrusts, letting go of one of his hands and reaching down to grab his hip, stopping him from thrusting.

Sarah swiveled her body to sit straight up, looking down at him, cupping his face, her fingers playing with his ears and the curls around them. Biting her lip, forcing him to look into her face, she made quick, jerky figure 8s in his lap, letting him see how good it felt for her.

"Oh God," he whispered, his eyes sliding down her body to look down at her skillful thrusts. "You feel so good."

He slammed his head back again and winced this time as she heard the loud thunk of his skull meeting the corner of the couch back. She stopped and giggled, reaching behind his head to rub at the spot where he'd hit his head. "You okay?" she panted. She winced as she rubbed him. "Right there?"

"Mmmmmm, keep going." She rubbed a little more vigorously. "Not that," he said, teasingly leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. He bounced his hips up against hers playfully and she gasped, looking down at him with a special glint in her eye. "This," he whispered.

Sarah slowly closed her fist, catching a few of his curls, and she pulled, not hard enough to hurt him, but he did wince and purse his lips with a soft "ooo" that made her grin like an idiot.

And she swept in to kiss him, gyrating in his lap slowly, whimpering against his lips. He just held her, his fingers pressing into her skin at her hips, letting her do whatever she wanted to him. It gave her a feeling of power and confidence that little else in her life ever had.

Including standing over victims who'd fallen at her hand, knowing she was safe, knowing she'd survived another mission at the expense of yet another human being. Rarely was it a _good_ human being, but still…

Her hips slowed, a hitch in her rhythm, and she suddenly pulled out of his kiss and dove in to bury her face in his neck. In spite of where she was, whose arms she was currently in, in spite of how safe she'd just felt in this situation a moment earlier, an irrational wave of fear swept through her and she clung tightly.

Before he could react, Sarah regained her senses. She was making love to a good man, in a safe space. But she couldn't push away the haunting realization that she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve his strong and tender embrace, she didn't deserve the way he willingly handed her his time, his affection, his body. She didn't deserve the trust she felt in every last bit of him. His trust in _her_. In her humanity. In her intentions.

What _were_ her intentions?

She felt his hands move up her body, and she felt him tense up. He had to know something was wrong.

And she didn't want him to see. She couldn't lie to him about something else. Not right now. She was much too vulnerable. So she distracted him in the only way she knew how.

She doubled down on her efforts, hugging him tightly and riding him with a newfound vigor that had him gasping, clinging to her, her name on his lips.

They came together, lips smashing together, their bodies arching off of the couch, Sarah feeling desperate, needing to get the despicable thoughts tingeing this experience out of her head before she went mad.

Gasping for breath, still reeling from everything, including the ecstasy still buzzing in her body, making her lips feel numb even, Sarah thought she'd misheard Chuck for a moment when his voice sounded in her ear. But she didn't. Because he repeated himself."You're wonderful," he panted. "God, Sarah Walker, you are _wonderful_."

Sarah buried her face further in his neck and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, doing her best to will away the fear. Was she truly this awful of a human being that she lied to and manipulated even the best of people? Someone like Chuck Bartowski who wasn't bad or evil, and hadn't a single wicked bone in his body.

She felt so selfish, as she fought off the cold that assailed her by cuddling deeper into his warmth. And even as she carefully eased him out of her, she stayed there against him, knowing if she darted out of here as fast as she wanted to, it would hurt him. She didn't want to hurt him. She just wanted to be with him.

And it was selfish.

He thought she was wonderful. He was so damn wrong. If only he knew how wrong he was, _he'd_ be the one darting away.

So she stayed for some time, her face pressed against his collarbone, letting him think it was a comfortable silence between them, forcing herself to be loose and content in his arms when she felt so tense. She was fucking up in the worst possible way with him.

But part of her stayed grounded, part of her was doing its best to remind her that it wasn't all lies that had drawn him in. There'd been so many truths. Not even once had her mirth, happiness, laughter been faked or put upon with Chuck. It was all sincere. The things she said in his presence weren't baseless compliments or ways to draw him into a web of deceit, to draw him further under her spell… It was all her.

And maybe that was even scarier. How real this all was.

It was enough to calm her down, however. And she clung to it almost as tightly as she clung to him.

Until finally she had enough control to pull back and smile at him, making sure it reached her eyes. She climbed up from his lap, sure her clothes were dry enough now. And she slid her panties and jeans up her legs.

"Keep the T-shirt for now," he said as he stood up and fixed his pants back up over his hips, tucking himself back inside and zipping them up. When she still made to take it off, he gave her a look. "I insist. Really."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'll get it from you later." He didn't seem worried in the slightest, like he knew there was another day ahead in which he'd see her. And it hurt. She felt stupid but it just hurt. What had she done, making him fully content to rely on this? On them? On _her_?

God, she felt like such a piece of shit as she went to his door.

But then his fingers lightly curled around hers and he turned her back towards him.

The kiss he gave her laved the sting of the last few minutes a bit. It was a reminder that he saw _something_ inside of her, something that wasn't a lie, something that wasn't a mask or an act. Something she hadn't meant to show him. And whatever it was, he genuinely liked her.

She had to keep that in her head as she went back to her own room, taking the stairs so that she didn't have to stand in an elevator and think for a full minute and a half or whatever.

She forced herself to remember he liked her. _Her_. Not some character she was playing. For the first time in the assassin's life, she was showing her true colors for the most part, and they were being admired, maybe even understood on a deeper level. And by a very, _very_ good man.

Chuck texted her right as she got into her own room. And she shut the door behind her, leaning back against it as she glanced at his message. Just a simple "Goodnight" that had something in her chest fluttering.

She responded in kind, adding in a cheeky "Thanks for the shirt". But she barely caught herself before she added "I'll treasure it always", deleting that last part before hitting send.

That thought made her think about a few weeks from now, when she'd be climbing on a plane to…somewhere. Sarah didn't know where. And Chuck? He'd only be a figment of her past. Something—some _one_ important that had happened to her. But she didn't want to think like that. She couldn't think like that. She was already close to going down another spiral. She didn't need another spiral to add onto that spiral.

Working with the CIA, she'd learned that the future wasn't always something a person could count on. She knew that better than most, since she was the one that usually deprived people of their futures. Assassins tended not to be overly sentimental.

With that thought in mind, she let herself look at Chuck's response for a few minutes as she took her pants off and crawled into her own bed, curling up and smiling a little. "Oh, anytime." She could even hear him saying it in his voice.

And she finally fell asleep with that voice in her head, a small smile on her lips in spite of the worried crease in her brow, her phone slipping out of her fingers and thumping onto the mattress.

* * *

I just want to say a little something about Sarah Walker. I've seen other authors delve deep into her psyche in really effective ways and that's what I'm trying to do with this story, as well. Do it in an effective way. She's had such a terrible past in canon and in this AU as well. And there are a lot of things that are truly ugly inside of her-disgust in herself and what she's had to do, for instance, a lack of trust in her own humanity, etc. A few of you PM'd me and said it was tiresome reading about Sarah being so emotionally convoluted all the time, and that her emotional swings from enjoying Chuck and being happy to remembering who she is and what she does for a living are too much.

While I truly appreciate how deeply some of you are delving into the story, enough to have a few long chats with me, I have to say, I'm going to continue to explore Sarah's emotions. And she will be swinging every which way. Because that's what humans do. That's part of what makes her such a deep character in the show. She's constantly dismissing just how real and human she is, even as her inner battles encapsulate what it means to be human. She's my favorite. So much fun to write.

And I hope you all continue to interact with her and with me as the story continues. You know there's more Chuck stuff coming too, even though this story isn't in his POV.

Thanks to everyone for reading. I really appreciate it! I'd love reviews and messages!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	10. Burn It Off

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** Thanks for being patient with me. Hopefully the chapter is enjoyable enough to make up for the long wait. And really...thank you so much to everyone reading and reviewing, and to everyone sending me messages. If I don't respond to your reviews or messages, please don't be offended. I've got a lot on my plate and not much time to take care of it. But I want you all to know I'm very appreciative. Keeps a girl writing.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I do not make any money from this story.

* * *

Chapter 10: **_Burn It Off_**

Sarah bit her lip as she stood at Chuck's room, her fingers itching to curl up into a fist and knock on the door. But she realized belatedly how rude it was for her to just show up like this. Right around dinner time.

And he probably wasn't even here. He was most likely off eating with his sister and her boyfriend. She decided it was best to just turn on her heel and head down alone, go on her sunset run by herself, and just invite him over the phone next time.

But just as she reached the end of the hallway, Sarah stopped and turned around again, heading back to his room. She was already here, after all. If he was busy or somewhere else, or if he simply didn't want to join her on her run, then so be it.

Really, though, she had to admit, she just wanted to see him.

She was well aware that whatever the hell feeling was coursing through her right now was dangerous for any spy. Though she had no idea what it signified, or how deep it really went. All she knew was that she really wanted to be with him again. Strangely enough, she didn't really mean it sexually. Not that her need was completely devoid of lust.

Sarah just wanted to be around him. She wanted to hear him chuckle, see that smile on his face, or his eyes lightening in the sun, turning to a soft amber color rather than the brown they usually were.

Without pausing, she brought her fist up to knock, and then waited with her hands folded together in front of her, wearing her tight light blue running tank, black shorts, and her New Balance running shoes.

The door opened after about thirty seconds, revealing a rather damp Chuck Bartowski in nothing but his swim trunks. "I—Sarah! Hi!" He lifted the towel he had around his neck and rubbed his hair with it to keep the curls from dripping all over his broad, tan shoulders.

"Hi. Sorry. I don't mean to barge in like this, I just—I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Not even a little. Just came in from a dip in the pool. It was hot today."

"It was," she said, nodding. She, herself, had gone snorkeling, knowing the water would be nice and cool on a day that was a lot warmer than usual. "Were you gonna say something when you opened the door just now?" she added, her face set in curiosity.

"Oh! That! Right. My, uh, my sister—Ellie just texted me a few minutes ago about getting dinner and when I heard the knock, I thought it was her."

"Oh, well, if you're eating dinner with your sister, I can—"

"No, no. No. It's okay." For a split second, she was a little terrified that he would make her stay here, and stand by while his sister and the man Chuck called Captain Awesome came back and they would see her and she'd have to meet them and she didn't actually know how to meet people sincerely. She panicked, but she stifled it quickly, afraid it might show on her face.

Chuck's gentle hand closed around her shoulder. "Here, come in here for a sec."

Sarah complied, letting him shut the door behind her.

"I actually bowed out with Ellie and Awesome because I thought…I thought maybe I'd invite you out for a bite to eat. Nothing super fancy. Just eating."

"Just eating," Sarah repeated in a giggle. "As opposed to…"

" _Fancy_ eating?" He winced and she laughed, earning a self-deprecating smile. He looked so adorable, still rubbing his head with his towel, the skin of his shoulders and chest still glistening from his dip in the pool. And his arms. He had such nice arms. And legs, but she decided not to drop her gaze that low. It'd be a little too obvious, whether or not they'd already crossed that line a few times.

There were still boundaries. Blatant objectification of his body was still off limits. Unless he was facing the other way and couldn't see it.

She inwardly smirked at that.

"But uh, what handy timing, you showing up right now," he continued. "Now I don't even have to call you." Chuck smiled toothily, dropping his towel back to his shoulder and putting his hands on his hips. And then he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Why _are_ you here? By the way. Not that I'm not glad to see you. Because I am." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I was actually just gonna go for a run and I wondered if you'd want to join me." Sarah glanced at her sportswatch on her wrist. "Sun is setting in twenty seven minutes."

His eyebrows popped. "Really? How d'you know that? Is it in your watch or someth—Wait. Run? You want me to run with you?"

"Yeah." She shrugged cutely and smiled. "If you want to. I won't make you."

"I mean, you wouldn't _have_ to. I just…I'm a little scared. Not gonna lie."

That made her laugh, as she looked at him with a quizzical brow. "Scared of what, exactly? I promise I won't let the French women get you."

He gave her a flat look, even though his eyes were sparkling in amusement. Sarah wondered at how good it felt to have Chuck be amused by something she said. He was a funny guy. Kinda goofy. But also full of wit and sincerity.

"You just seem like you're…super fit. Like…beast mode status."

"Are you calling me a beast?"

His eyes widened and he thrusted his hands out in front of him in panic. "No! No, no. Beast mode just means you're a bad—okay, I see now that you were just messing with me. Not cool, Sarah. Not cool."

Sarah just giggled and crossed her arms at her chest. "So you gonna come with me?" She glanced at her watch again. "Twenty four and a half minutes 'til sunset." She popped an eyebrow, looking up at him through her lashes.

"I can't say no to you." Sarah beamed and he looked like he was melting slowly, a smile growing gradually on his lips. "But I just want to go on the record saying I will not be held accountable if I end up losing consciousness halfway through."

"You are _not_ gonna lose consciousness. Put some clothes on."

"I can't run like this?" He spread his arms out to the side, his palms up. As sexy as he was in just his swim trunks, his hair still damp and oh so curly atop his head, with those broad shoulders and his hint of a six pack…Sarah cleared her throat and looked up at his face pointedly.

"No. Well, I mean, you can if you want. I'm not gonna tell you what to wear. But it might get a little cold once the sun goes down. And if you're sweating, it'll be that much worse."

He sighed and walked backwards towards his bedroom. "Right right. Makes sense. Okay, we'll go running. But then dinner?"

"Sure. Just eating."

He smirked at her teasing and ducked into his room to change. Chuck emerged almost a minute later in black basketball shorts and a plain v-neck blue t-shirt. "Alright, let's do this."

After he pulled his running shoes on, they made their way slowly down to the lobby and out past the pool where Sarah spared a thought that this was where they'd first met. A phone he thought was hers held in between them. She'd taken almost no notice of him, and was even a little frustrated that he'd ruined her plan.

Things had changed since a few days ago, though.

A lot had changed.

And damn it, but she only had until Monday to figure out what she was doing. A feeling of unpleasantness went down her spine and she suddenly had the urge to be alone. It wasn't Chuck's fault. She'd invited him, after all.

It was just that she'd been pushing off her decision. And in a few days, she had to be completely sure. If she wasn't, she'd risk ruining everything. Who was she kidding? Either way, she had a lot to lose.

"Sarah?"

"Hm?" She looked up and realized she'd stopped walking next to him. "Sorry, I was just distracted. We running along the water or on the boardwalk?" she asked, sweeping past him.

But she stopped again when she felt his hand take hers, holding her back gently. Sarah looked up and met his gaze questioningly.

"You okay?"

Chuck seemed almost tentative, maybe even a little sheepish, about asking. Like he'd observed she was the type of person who kept things close to her chest, like he didn't want to seem pushy or nosy. It warmed her from the inside out. "I'm good."

"Work again?"

She didn't mean to blanch, and she regretted it when he let her go like she was made of fire and held his hands up in a purposefully non-threatening way. "Sorry. I just know that look."

"What look?" she asked, her voice soft in an attempt to ease the bite she hadn't meant to deliver.

"Like you're…I dunno…dwelling on something back at the office. Do you have an office?" He winced again. "Sorry. That was random. Just a thing that popped into my head."

Sarah giggled. "No, I don't. I travel around so much for my job that I don't actually have an office. Just an apartment. And lots of hotel rooms." All of that was true. And she felt good telling him the truth again, even though it was built on the lie that she was a government interpreter rather than an assassin for the CIA. "And you're right, I was thinking about work again. I have a decision to make and it's…a hard one."

"Need to talk about it? We can walk for a bit at first." He gestured at the steps that led down to the beach.

"Ha! You just don't want to run," she teased, poking him in the chest.

"What?! No, I—Okay, that's kinda true. I'm still afraid I'm gonna die on you down there. What a way to go, though, right? In Nice. On the beach with a beautiful woman. Mmm."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

But then he stepped closer, his face serious again. "I really mean it, though. If you want to talk about it, you can talk to me."

She really couldn't. And he had no idea just _how much_ she couldn't talk to him about it. She couldn't talk to anyone about it. Not even Carina. Well, she _could_ talk to Carina, but the woman would fly across the world to show up at her doorstep and punch her across the face for even considering leaving the CIA. Not only that, but she thought Carina was probably at this moment attempting to bring down a drug lord in Ecuador.

"Thanks, Chuck, but it's okay. It's just something I have to think about."

"Well, then…let's run. Burn it off, huh?"

He jogged down the steps onto the sand and turned to look up at her, jogging in place.

"Come on, Walker."

Sarah twisted her mouth to the side and hurried down the steps to join him. She'd never felt quite so at ease with another person.

They ran side by side at a pace that was maybe a little slower than her usual pace, but she didn't mind it. This was less about the run and more about the person she was running with.

But he was quiet as they ran together—unlike the first time when they'd happened upon one another while jogging at the same time. He'd been very chatty then. And flirty as well.

She wondered if he was staying quiet on purpose, as though he was trying to give her the time and space to get lost in her own thoughts rather than splitting her attention. It was the sort of gesture she expected from him. Even so, it was such a small kindness, something she was sure anyone else would overlook, or simply just ignore. Herself included.

Sarah took advantage of his gesture, deciding not to let it go to waste.

Time wasn't on her side anymore.

Anymore. She silently scoffed to herself. When was it ever?

She was constantly in a race against time. And Sarah supposed that was why she had grown to cherish this suspension so much. For years, she'd never had a chance to just relax and explore. She'd never had the chance to connect with other people outside of missions. The men she'd slept with had been nothing but a sexual connection, and rarely had she slept with any of them again. And not just because she'd had to drop her cover identity and get out of town before she was found, but because there was nothing there but release.

Not that it had ever bothered her in the slightest. Sex had its purposes. It felt good. Usually. Sometimes it felt better than other times.

Sarah shook her head a little to veer herself away from that train of thought. It had no relevance to the actual decision she was trying to make. About whether or not she was going to continue on with the CIA, or if she was going to leave it all behind, start fresh.

Start fresh doing what, she had no idea. She didn't have the appropriate diplomas necessary to go into the line of work she'd told Chuck she was in. She didn't even know what sort of diploma she needed. What kind of experience she needed.

She didn't even have a real diploma to start with. There was one with a fake name from a private liberal arts university in D.C. She'd gone there while at the Farm, a way to keep herself connected to the world and learn new things while the CIA did its best to cut her off and make her into their own special killer.

They didn't know about Renee Wilson, or her BA in liberal arts. And it had taken quite a bit of skill on her part to get it without their knowledge. She could always use that if she quit the CIA. Maybe teach somewhere.

But she'd have to be Renee Wilson again. And that meant Sarah Walker had to disappear.

There was a really good reason why she didn't want Sarah Walker to disappear. And it had everything to do with the man currently running along beside her. If Sarah Walker disappeared, that meant no more Chuck. Unless she told him the truth. That wasn't an option.

He wouldn't be running along beside her anymore, he'd be running _away_. And fast.

With that thought lodged in her mind, she pondered her future with the CIA. If she stayed, it meant going right back to the way things were before Nice. Before this blissful vacation. This city had opened her eyes to all sorts of wonders that she'd never allowed herself to experience before. She'd never had the time or the means.

Could she go back to the CIA after this? It wasn't exactly like she was some robot before this vacation, either. She'd been noticing more, taking in the things around her that didn't pertain to the mission or her safety. Looking at things simply because they were beautiful. Smelling the roses, as it were. Now that she'd been given the opportunity to fully appreciate it all and enjoy life, could she jump back into a profession that made her unhappy?

Sarah almost halted again.

She was unhappy.

The CIA had started making her unhappy as far back as a year or two ago. Or had she always been unhappy? She wasn't sure. She didn't hate everything about it, not by a long shot. Getting into a fist fight with another person was thrilling. She loved reading the other person, blocking, punching. She loved the taste of blood at the edge of her mouth if they broke through her defenses just that one time. And how the anger that she'd let them would drive her forward to win the battle.

She loved those silent moments in the middle of the night while she was watching the home of one of her targets. When everybody was asleep except for her. And she felt like the only person in the world, huddled under the window with her cheek pressed against her rifle, watching through the scope with her frosty blue eyes.

And then there was the whole jet setting around the world part. She'd experienced so many cultures, learned so many languages.

And she was good. She was really, really good at her job. Would she ever be able to find anything else that would replace this? Was she even good at anything else? Sex, maybe, if Chuck's reactions the last few days were anything to go off of. But she couldn't exactly make a career out of sex. That was illegal in most places.

And pretty damn gross in all places.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell down the beach. Startled, she grabbed at the small of her back to pull her knife from where she'd tucked it, only to find that it wasn't there. She'd left her knives at home? What the…?But then she saw the dog racing towards them, its tongue flopping out of the side of its mouth as its feet beat against the wet sand. It splashed a little just as it neared them and Chuck was already on his knees to receive it.

The little black and white tuxedo dog looked a little bit like a rug, its eyes covered with fur and its long tail beating back and forth as it finally leapt at Chuck and started licking whatever it could find.

The explosive giggle that came out of the grown man made her grin wildly, even though she was still startled by the fact that she'd inadvertently forgotten to bring her knives along with her. The same knives that had served to protect her numerous times before. She felt lost without them.

Naked. Vulnerable in a way she'd never felt before.

Because she'd never forgotten them before.

But at the same time, watching Chuck push the dog onto its back and rub its furry belly, chuckling when its back leg started kicking at the sensation, she felt less lost. Significantly.

"She's cute," Sarah said, kneeling down next to Chuck and patting the little creature's fluffy head. It looked up at her happily, its tongue still hanging out. She wondered if most of its happiness came from actually being able to see for a little bit, its fur falling out of its eyes as it laid on its back.

The owner finally caught up, huffing and puffing, the dog's collar and leash in her hand. "Sorry!" she said with a thick Italian accent. "I was trying to put her, eh, her collar back on, and she saw you. She doesn't bite."

"What's her name?" Chuck asked, still laughing as he played with the energetic dog that was currently caked with sand as it rolled on its back batting and kicking at Chuck's hands.

"Lola."

"Hi, Lola," Sarah said, taking one of Lola's little paws and giving it a shake. Lola surged up to snap in adrenaline at Sarah, but missed on purpose and let out a few soft pants, before flipping onto its legs again and darting in circles around them.

"She is still…erm…puppy, you say? Too much…excitement."

"She's energetic," Chuck said, giggling like a little boy at the dog as she raced around them and leapt into the water.

"Lola!" The owner let out a string of Italian admonishments and the dog responded, hurrying back and sitting at her feet calmly, a contrite look on its furry little face. Sarah couldn't help but love those brown eyes. She thought maybe she had a thing for brown eyes, these days, and then wondered if she'd just inadvertently compared Chuck to a dog.

The owner finally got the leash and collar onto Lola and bid them farewell, allowing Chuck and Sarah to pet the little dog one last time before they started their jog back up again.

"You ever own a dog?" Chuck asked. The silent part of their run was apparently only going to last fifteen minutes.

"Nope."

"Really?" He turned towards her and furrowed his brow.

"Really."

"We had one when I was really little. A spaniel. Her name was Peaches and she was the coolest." He paused. "Did you ever want one?"

"Of course I did," she said truthfully. "It just wasn't…possible."

He mercifully left it at that, not asking her a slew of questions she didn't want to have to answer. She loved that he was just as thoughtful and tactful as he was observant.

And she thought of what it might be like to have a dog. Her lifestyle as it was now would never allow for a dog. How would she care for it? Who would feed it and take it for walks while she was jet setting around the world? How would it get taken care of if she were killed on a mission? Would it get put in the pound? She knew what happened to dogs in the pound if they weren't adopted.

But what if she left the CIA?

Things like…having a pet…having a boyfriend…it was all possible. Real life normal things that everybody else got to do. Having a regular life meant getting to go on vacation, getting to have nice quiet days without carrying around a loaded gun. Getting to walk your dog, planting a garden. She'd always wanted to have her own garden. And eat the things she'd planted herself, with her own two hands. She wanted to feel the breeze against her face because she was jogging along the shoreline in Nice before dinner, like she was now, and not because she was being chased through a crowded marketplace in Taiwan by men who wanted her dead.

Could she survive without the CIA, though? Would her trigger finger get itchy? Would she grow tired of a regular life after a few months and want to dive back in? By then, it'd be too late.

And then what would she do?

But what if this was it?

What if this was her perfect opportunity to cut herself away for good? Before it became impossible? What if it was early enough for her to really start anew, build a life that was hers and hers alone? To be her own woman who could express her wants and needs, who could talk to real people instead of wondering what she could get out of them, how manipulating them could further her cause…it all sounded too good to be true.

And Chuck…

He really was too good to be true.

And yet here he was beside her. Completely real and sincere and more than she'd ever thought a human being could be. Even now, he was purposefully swerving into the receding water to splash a little. Almost like meeting a puppy had brought out his own sense of childlike excitement.

Minutes passed as Sarah sank deeper and deeper into her own thoughts, first swinging one way with her decision, and then backtracking and swinging the other way. Until finally, Chuck grabbed her wrist and slowed to a halt, holding her back. She looked at him in concern and confusion for a moment, her mind still clouded by her deep thoughts.

Chuck was staring off at the horizon and as she followed his finger that pointed at something behind her, she realized why. The sun was finally slipping behind the horizon. It was a vibrant mixture of red and orange, the sky around it tinged a purplish pink, and she unconsciously slid her hand into Chuck's, leaning her shoulder into his side and simply watching.

They were silent for a few minutes as it slid lower and lower, until finally there was nothing left but a soft pink glow over the water.

"Wanna turn back?" Chuck asked.

She looked up at his profile, the way he stared off into the distance, a soft smile on his face. Sarah wanted to wrap her arms around him and just hug him close. She wanted to bury herself in his warmth and lose herself.

But she didn't. Instead she just nodded as he finally turned to look back at her. "Yeah. Let's go."

"Good. I'm hungry."

She laughed as he took off in the other direction at a fast pace, and she wondered how long it would take before he got a cramp, sprinting and laughing like that.

It took about five minutes before he was hunched over and grabbing his side. She giggled and rolled her eyes, stopping and walking back to him, gently making him stand up straight and slow his breathing, rubbing his side a little. "You're so predictable," she said, knowing even while she said it that there were so many ways he _wasn't_ predictable in the slightest.

That was part of why she liked him so much. He was unpredictable in the best way.

"Yeah. Well…" He grunted and winced, breathing slowly. He didn't seem to know how to finish that thought and she just giggled again.

"Think you can jog the rest of the way back?"

He nodded and they took off again at a slower pace. It took them some time to get back, and by then, the sky was navy blue and the air was much cooler, the pinks and oranges of the setting sun totally gone without a trace.

Sarah split off from him to go to her own room after he stumbled over his words awkwardly about them taking showers. She hadn't meant to make a face when he said, "We should probably shower", but she had. And then he'd been forced to backtrack and blush. And then she had to bite her lip to keep from blushing, and she finally got to her room just in time to blush behind closed doors.

Sarah Walker, assassin…blushing. This was ridiculous.

She found him in the lobby 25 minutes later, picking through the brochures near the concierge desk.

He pocketed a few, told her she looked beautiful, and they set off in search of food. Chuck used Yelp on his smartphone, like a true California boy, she couldn't help but tease.

"I'm not even gonna defend myself. This is a handy tool, okay? Look. Look at this. 65 reviews. 4 stars. Best quiche in town. So says this guy named BrunoFood69." Chuck paused and curled his lip a little. "Wait no. BrunoFood69 sounds like the title of a really bad porno."

Sarah laughed for a good solid minute at that, holding onto his arm with both hands to stay standing and pressing her face into his shoulder.

They went to the Bad Porno Cafe, as Chuck insisted on calling it, anyways.

And BrunoFood69 was right about the quiche. It took almost no time for her to get it, Chuck allowing her to buy dinner this time, but only if she let him get the club soda she pulled from the drink case.

They ended up nestled in the corner where the breeze coming in from the door would catch them and make the warm room that much nicer.

"Okay, I'm going to ask a question now and you have to tell me the truth," Chuck said as he swallowed a bite of bacon and broccoli quiche. Sarah tried not to be nervous. He didn't know anything about her. Not really. So whatever question he asked would be easy to answer. "Shoot." She sipped her club soda casually, hiding her nerves.

"Do you wish you'd ordered my quiche instead of what you got?"

"Oh my God," she groaned, dropping her forehead to the back of her hand with a thunk.

"No, I'm just—Like, bacon and broccoli and cheese. It's a staple. There's nothing wrong with that. You got spinach and mushroom. I mean, come on. Bacon? Mushrooms. Bacon? …Mushrooms. Sarah, really."

She just laughed and shook her head. "You just want to try mine, and that's a fact."

"Um, no it isn't."

"It is. You've been trash talking the mushroom and spinach this whole time and now you're curious about whether or not you'll like it. Aren't you?"

She didn't spend years in the CIA to _not_ be able to read people. She inwardly smirked.

Chuck's jaw dropped. "How…did you know?"

Sarah knew he was joking, but she cut off part of her quiche, skewered it with her fork and thrust it across the table towards him. He eyed it for a moment, then leaned in to take her fork in his mouth, letting his lips drag over it as he pulled back, munching on her quiche.

She must've messed up her priorities or something in the last week, because she really should _not_ have been turned on by that. They were eating _quiche_ for shit's sake.

"That actually is…kinda good. Not gonna lie. …Still like my bacon better."

She snorted and shook her head. "You're a dweeb."

"Nerd."

"No. No, Chuck. Dweeb." She winked to take away the sting of it and he merely smiled and wrinkled his nose.

The couple continued with their banter, finishing off their meal slowly, and all the while, Sarah found herself unable to get rid of that tingle she'd been feeling ever since she fed Chuck from her own fork.

She felt silly for the hint of shyness. But the truth was, they'd only known each other for less than a week now, and in that time, she really hadn't learned all that much about him. And yet, she trusted him implicitly. More so than she'd ever trusted anyone. This was all so good and so new and she didn't quite know what she was doing with any of this, where it would all go…

So she thought to herself, feeling a little ill-behaved for it admittedly, just this one last time, she would push off her decision and just enjoy the night. Enjoy him.

And she slid her her foot out of her sandal and slowly pressed her toes against his ankle. His eyes lifted to meet hers, the flame from the candle on the table dancing in his golden gaze. She slowly dragged her toes up under his jeans, going as high as possible before stroking them back down again to play with the thong of his sandals between her toes, giving it a little tug.

Sarah knew he was well aware of what she was doing, and where she wanted this to lead. She could sense he felt the same way. But they were a good 35 minute walk away from their hotel.

And she was fine doing this for a little while longer. Stroking up and down his leg, propping her chin in her hand as she leaned her elbow on the table, looking at him in a way that let him know exactly what her intentions were.

She felt his other foot against her leg then and a thrill went through her as she realized anybody looking over at their table would be able to tell _exactly_ what was happening.

"Sarah?" he asked, picking up one of her hands and stroking his thumb over her palm oh so slowly. It sent tingles up her arm.

"Hm?"

"If I pay for it, what do you say to taking—"

"A taxi?" she finished for him. "Yes. Absolutely. Definitely."

"Let's go."

They stood up as one and left the cafe quickly, heading out to the main road and walking along the street towards their hotel while searching for a taxi to take them back. It took a good five minutes before they finally hailed one down and Sarah practically dove into the back seat, her hands clasped over her knees to keep from yanking Chuck in after her.

As he plopped down, she told the driver the hotel name and they settled back into the seat, their shoulders pressed together.

Sarah and Chuck turned to one another at the same time. He blinked just once and she clasped her hands onto his face, tugging him in for a heated kiss. He responded in kind for a good solid twenty seconds, his hands grasping at her waist over her blouse, then sliding his fingers down into the waistband of her jeans.

He seemed to come to his senses then, pulling out of the kiss quickly and grabbing her by her arms, as though he was holding her at a safe distance.

Chuck didn't say anything. Instead he cocked his head towards the driver and widened his eyes.

She got the general idea. He was embarrassed about making out in front of the driver. But when would they ever see this guy again in their lives? And she didn't think she could handle sitting in one corner of the taxi's backseat while he sat in the other. She wanted to be close, pressed against him, his lips covering hers, his large hands dragging over her.

Well, she wanted much more obviously but she would take this for now. At least until they were nestled away in one of their rooms.

"Who cares?" she whispered under her breath.

He curled his lip in something of a pout, sighing. And then he grabbed her and kissed her again. She giggled into the kiss and rounded his neck with her arms, letting him pull her so tight against him that she was practically in his lap.

Sarah ignored the huff of amusement from the front seat and put even more energy into locking lips with Chuck, teasing him with her tongue until he opened his mouth wider and met her halfway. She couldn't help it. She needed to feel his curls between her fingers. So she slid them up into his dark hair and hummed softly into his mouth. God it was like silk, this man's hair.

She didn't know how long they stayed that way in the back of the taxi, but then the vehicle came to an abrupt stop and nearly sent Sarah spilling off of the seat. Chuck, however, had a tight grip on her, and he kept her upright.

He helped her off of his lap and fished in his wallet for money.

Once they were out on the pavement in front of their hotel, Sarah found herself grinning at the sight of the middle aged couple not-so-gracefully waltzing to the street musician's accordion music, laughing with each other over how poorly they were dancing, stepping on one another's toes, not caring what they looked like, or who was watching.

Sarah would have ignored this couple two years ago. Maybe even a few months ago. A few weeks ago.

She'd been trained to look for threats, escape routes, targets, marks. Which meant that nothing else warranted her attention. It was a waste to do something if it wasn't for the job. She completely missed these moments, the small bits of happiness in the world. She'd never felt like she deserved happiness…even a little. It had never been a part of her life. Contentment, sure. Excitement, yes. Adrenaline, desire, curiosity…But never happiness.

But everything was different. She was different.

And it wasn't just about Chuck. It was something that had been blossoming in her lately, even before Nice. That desire to want more, and to be more. It was that desire that made her notice Chuck in the first place. She wondered if his charms would have been lost on her if she'd met him when she was 21 or 22. Or was he that special that he would've broken through even then?

She didn't know or care because he was currently pulling her away from the musician and his spur of the moment performers, into the lobby and past the concierge desk.

Letting him lead her into the elevator in their building, she bit her lip to keep from grinning too hard, and held a hand to her chest to keep from breathing too deeply.

And the second the doors slid shut, Sarah crashed into him, pushing her hands underneath his shirt and teasing his skin with her fingernails. Her lips found his pulse point on his neck as she melted into his warm body, sighing as he grabbed onto her and tugged her in close with a teasing jerk.

His fingers curled under her chin and tilted her head up to catch her lips in a fiery kiss and she felt that same fire cascade down her body. She ignored the ding and the elevator doors sliding open.

She didn't care.

She would have Chuck in the elevator if she had to. She didn't know if anybody was there when the doors opened. She didn't have the patience or willpower to pull away from him.

She even went so far as to grind her front against his, earning a low growl from deep in his chest.

They kissed as they slowly moved out of the elevator, Sarah pulling him along even as she pecked his lips over and over again, her touch playful. That was a word she'd never have used to describe herself before: "playful".

She giggled as he pressed her against the wall in the hallway, bracing his palm beside her head and pinning her with his body, still kissing her passionately. And as she slid her hand down his back to his ass, giving him a quick squeeze, he pushed his lower half into hers and she felt the very pronounced bulge under his pants. "Mmm," she hummed, pulling her lips from his just enough to gasp out a breathless, "We should at least _try_ to make it to the room."

"Try being the operative word?" he panted back, kissing her again, but more chaste this time, his hand coming up to cup her jaw.

A giggle came from deep in her chest and he joined in on the laughter. But then they heard the unmistakable sound of someone opening their door down the hallway. Chuck cursed under his breath and leapt away from the wall and Sarah.

Her eyes immediately dropped to the obvious erection his pants were just barely keeping in. It was only natural for her gaze to be attracted to it, and the rest of her body was as well, it had to be said. But when Chuck followed her line of sight, he reached out and grabbed her, yanking her to him and holding her to his front, her back pressed against his chest.

The other guest stepped out of his room with an ice bucket in his hand, dressed in his pajamas and slippers, his long hair in a ponytail.

Sarah didn't blame him for eyeing them strangely, considering the way they were hobbling down the hallway pressed so close together.

She could feel Chuck against her lower back as he held her close, his arms around her midsection. It was distracting to say the least, but they only had to make one more turn before they could lock themselves inside of Chuck's suite.

They were quite the sight, penguin waddling together to the corner, but the man had lost interest by the time he passed them by, and they were home free. Sarah threw one last glance over her shoulder, laughter threatening to erupt from her, the bubble of amusement rising in her chest to her throat where she forced it to stay for the time being.

And then they were at his suite and Chuck was grappling in his pocket for his key, still holding her against him. She could feel him shaking with suppressed laughter, and it made it that much harder to hold hers in.

But then they were inside, shutting the door and collapsing against it in a fit of explosive laughter. Sarah leaned against his sturdy height and let it all come out, holding onto his arms as he held her up by her elbows.

"What the hell kind of reaction was that?" she gasped between giggles, wiping at the tear that escaped her eye.

"I don't know!" he squeaked, shrugging while still making sure she didn't tip over. "He was coming out and I didn't want him to see!"

"So you used me as a shield?"

"Spur of the moment reaction!"

That made her laugh hard again and she fell forward, wrapping her arms around his torso. She felt his arms round her back and pull her close, and she buried her face in his shirt collar, still grinning like an idiot. "That was priceless."

"Hope that guy enjoys his damn ice."

She snorted loudly, which made the giggles start anew. Sarah was absolutely positive that nothing in her entire life had ever made her laugh this hard. There was that one day a few years ago when her partner at the time had stepped on thin ice, sending his entire foot through it. His high pitched yelp had cracked her up, but the situation they'd been in when it happened had only afforded her a moment's amusement, lest they get caught by their prey.

But that old memory had nothing on this.

There was no reason for her to stop laughing, here. Nobody was waiting around the corner to shoot her. She didn't have to keep quiet for fear she'd be heard. There was no danger here.

There was warmth. Always warmth.

The last few days had afforded her more warmth than her entire life before it combined. It was more warmth than she thought she deserved, honestly.

But she was selfish, and she would hold onto this for as long as she could. It would have to last her a long time, no matter what decision she made by the time Monday rolled around.

She forced that back out of her mind and looked up at her companion and smirked. "You know, it's probably good that he came out of his room when he did, else we might've ended up getting kicked out of the hotel and possibly arrested for lewd conduct in public."

He chuckled and then made a face, thinking it over. "Eh, would we, really, though? Is the hallway 'public'? I mean, technically, it's—"

Sarah didn't let him finish. Talking about being out in the hallway had brought everything back. The humorous interlude was over. And she wanted him to touch her again. So she kissed him, grabbing him by his shirt and tugging him against her.

Not that she didn't find the fact that he talked too much endearing, but it didn't change the fact that he talked too much.

Sarah quickly undid his jeans and grabbed him by his waistband, pushing him up against the wall. Granted, it would only take them a few seconds to walk to the bedroom, but they'd waited long enough. And Sarah took only a moment to think about the fact that Chuck seemed as content as she was not to budge from this spot, instead making out heavily.

She struggled to get her pants undone, pushing them down while still trying not to break contact. His lips felt so good on her neck and jaw, his hair tickled her skin. She wanted more.

It felt like ages passed before Sarah had her panties at her feet and was kicking them off to the side.

Chuck's hands, so large and warm, cupped her backside and squeezed, before hoisting her up into his arms and turning around to press her against the wall, pinning her there much like he had in the hallway. Except this time, she wasn't wearing a damn thing from the waist down. And Chuck? Damn it, why was he still in pants?

She nearly grumbled in frustration. He was so focused on her that he'd neglected to undress. Pure and unadulterated Chuck behavior.

She tried to drag her hand down between their bodies to help him. She couldn't reach, though, pinned as she was with her legs wrapped around his waist.

It seemed, however, that Chuck got the message loud and clear. And with a grunt of effort, he reached around her legs and…Well, she couldn't really see _what_ he was doing, since her body was in the way. She just heard the rustling of denim, cotton…

And suddenly he was there, brushing over her sex. She whimpered softly and reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He slowly lowered her body as he thrusted himself up, and she felt him fill her. He went deeper and deeper, until he was as deep as possible.

"Oh, Chuck…" she breathed, her fingers tightening in the shirt he still wore.

Chuck pressed his body close, looking up into her face, before he surprised her by tucking his arm under her left leg and pressing his palm against the wall. She tilted her head back and whimpered, holding onto his bicep, wrapping her other leg securely around his body. His thrusts were slow, but so deep. He didn't pull back until his groin bumped against hers, and then he did it over and over again.

Sarah simply held onto him and pressed her forehead against his, angling her head to look down between their torsos. It was definitely turning her on, getting to watch him like this, his strength on display, as she enjoyed the sensations of having him inside of her.

He let go of her leg after a few more thrusts and she quickly mimicked her other leg to keep from slipping, wrapping it around his waist and linking her ankles. She then tightened her grip on him, tugging his front to hers, burying her face in his hair. "Ooooh yesss," she moaned in his ear.

Chuck whimpered, his hands clutching her thighs, holding her up as he began thrusting even faster. Sarah gasped his name and dug her fingers into the muscles of his upper back, loving the way they moved under her hands.

She could feel just how close she was getting. Sarah dragged her hands down his back as far as she could reach and massaged him there, sliding his shirt up to feel his hot and smooth bare skin. "Almost there," she panted. "Come on… Oh God, that's it!"

She came a moment later with a whimpering gasp of his name, squeezing him so tight in her arms that she felt a pop in his shoulder. He didn't seem to care, however, as he slowed his thrusts to keep her climax lasting.

Sarah finally went limp in his arms and he gathered her up securely, pulling himself out of her, before cradling her and stepping back from the wall. She let him carry her wherever he wanted, content to stay like this for hours and hours if need be.

Her body was buzzing as he carried her…somewhere. She assumed the bedroom, but her eyes were shut, her face buried in his neck. And then her assumptions were confirmed when he lowered her to what was definitely a mattress—a mattress she knew the feeling of now that she'd spent a few nights wrestling with Chuck on top of it.

Sarah finally opened her eyes when his warmth and weight lifted away from her, and she watched him as he pulled his shirt off and quickly got rid of everything else. Realizing she was maybe looking a little too closely, she diverted her eyes from his package and sat up to pull her shirt off. For a moment, she was amused at the thought of her clothes and shoes being scattered throughout his suite at the moment thanks to that quickie against the wall just inside the door.

She'd worry about finding everything later, because Chuck was climbing over her again, his features set in eagerness.

The guy wasn't even going to bother trying to play it cool, apparently. He was owning the fact that he wanted her as bad as he did, and she found herself incredibly pleased by that. When his body finally blanketed hers, she welcomed him with a hot kiss, offering him her tongue, which he accepted immediately, humming happily.

He pushed his arms underneath her body and tugged her as close as possible so that she was wrapped up in him, in every sense of the word. She slid her hands up his back and hugged him, holding onto his shoulders and nudging him with her hips.

He smiled into the kiss and shifted down a little so that she felt him at her entrance again. In this particular position, trapped (but not unhappily so) in his embrace, it was tough for her to get much weight into it. But she was used to overpowering even larger men than Chuck, and in much more dangerous situations than this. So she found a way to swing them both to the side so that Chuck landed on his back beneath her, his arms still around her so that she laid flat on top of his body.

Chuck pulled back from the kiss just another to chuckle, "O-o-okay, then."

Sarah smirked and kissed him some more, extracting an arm to reach down and find his hard member with her fingers. He twitched under her as she wrapped her hand around him, gently stroking him as she shifted her weight, moving down a little to line his cock up with her entrance.

She guided him inside of her then, slowly pushing herself back and arching her body to take in as much of him as possible. "Mmmm, Chuck," she muttered against his chin, gasping at how good he felt in this position.

And then she slid him out of her just enough so that the tip was still in and she used her fingers to stroke him a few times. He pulled out of the kiss and whimpered her name, until his hands slid around to grasp her by her waist. He thrusted himself into her a few times, taking away some of her control. And as good as it felt, she bit her lip and held him still, a teasingly chastising look on her face.

With a smirk, Sarah reached up to hold onto the bed's headboard, grabbing his hand in her free one and pinning it to the mattress up by his head. Bracing her knees on either side of him, she began to rock back and forth on top of him, their fronts grinding as she moved fluidly.

Chuck's free hand found her backside, and contrary to before, he didn't guide her. He just held on, squeezing in time with her thrusts. It felt amazing, and she threw her head back with a whimper to let him know as much.

She adjusted her grip on the bed and put more power into riding him, rocking slowly, pulling him in as deep as possible with each thrust and clenching to make sure he felt it as much as she did. He must've, because he groaned her name loudly and moved his grip from her ass to the mattress, twisting his fist in the sheet.

Her arm started aching just a little, then…Maybe because she had to reach a little too far to hold onto the headrest properly. So she let go of the bed and him, pressing her palms to the mattress beside his shoulders and pushing her torso up so that she was sitting in his lap and their bodies were perpendicular.

The way he was looking up at her, anticipation lighting his brown eyes so that they looked like they were made of gold, his eyebrows knit in passion and awe, sent a wave of heat through her. His sincerity in his admiration of her was such a turn on.

She'd never had this happen to her before. Not with anyone. And it was exciting. Invigorating.

So much so that she let the urges and emotions overcome her, she let them guide her, dropping safeguards and letting loose. Her fingers twisting in the sheets on either side of him, she braced her knees more comfortably against the mattress, sat as heavily on his cock as she could, their groins pressed tightly together, and started gyrating fast and hard on top of him.

His groan only served to ignite her body even more and she hunched her shoulders forward a little to put even more strength into her thrusts. As she felt his large hand close over her thigh, she pushed herself to sit straight up again and started bouncing, over and over and over again, noticing the way his gaze fell to her breasts.

When his hands closed over both of them, kneading her sensitive mounds as she bounced on his cock, she let her head fall back. "Oh yes, Chuck," she whimpered. "Yes!"

"Sarah," he grumbled, turning his face into the pillow and groaning into it.

And as she licked her lips, starting to swing her hips back and forth again, she saw him shut his eyes tightly and bite the pillow between his teeth. She'd never seen anything that sexy ever in her entire life, and she didn't know why it affected her so much. It was like the room was on fire. Her skin was hot. That telltale ache was mounting behind her bellybutton.

Sarah doubled down on her efforts, riding him fast and hard, holding onto the mattress for dear life as he reached up with his other fist and slammed it against the headboard. His eyes were wide, his mouth gaping as he watched her.

She came with his name on her lips, reaching for just a little bit more, clenching, aching with pleasure. She shuddered, letting out a long breath and sitting still on his lap for a few seconds.

But when he made to move and let her off, she grabbed his shoulders in both hands and started rocking on top of him again. He hummed in pleasure and set his hands on her thighs, massaging her muscles there. Chuck must have figured out why she kept going because he was now smiling up at her, his eyelids half shut in ecstasy, her name on his lips.

She slowly dragged one hand down from his shoulder and let her fingernails skirt along the indentations of his abdomen muscles. He groaned as she lightly stroked his happy trail. And when she started applying pressure against his lower stomach, she could see his shoulders starting to tense up.

He came soon after, and she whimpered softly, rocking a little slower into his groin until he'd emptied himself completely inside of her.

Sarah flopped onto her back beside him, breathing hard, grinning just as hard, and feeling like she'd just ran three miles. In the best way possible.

Was it possible for sex to just keep getting better? Did that even happen in real life? Was it him, or was it her? Or was it both of them? She didn't know. She decided it was best not to question it. And as she turned over to look at the clock, she saw it was close to 11 at night.

"I should get back," she said, pushing herself to sit up and running her fingers through her hair to get rid of the tangles.

"Oh."

He had sounded a little…odd…when he said that, so she turned to look at him, all splayed out and satisfied, his arms folded under the back of his head. "You okay?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted both of his. "You kiddin' me?" She giggled and he smiled warmly. "Let me walk you out."

Chuck moved to sit up but she quickly turned over and put a hand on his chest, forcing him to lie back down. And then she swung her leg over him and hovered teasingly, her lips close to his.

"You stay in bed. I know my way out." She closed the distance kissed him softly at first, but then he opened his mouth and she had no choice but to accept the invitation, opening her own and tasting him a little more. She pulled back from the kiss, let the shiver run through her, smirked down at the dreamy look on his face, and climbed off of him, standing up and making sure her legs worked before she went any further.

She gathered her clothes from where they'd ended up scattered on the floor, even having to go out in the main room to find some of it. When she finished pulling them on, she went back to stand in the door of the bedroom and smiled. "Night."

He merely lifted his hand in a cute little wave and grinned.

Sarah left him alone again, shutting the door behind her and heading down the hallway towards the elevator.

This was becoming an incredibly familiar journey for her, she thought to herself, unable to keep the smug look from her face. For the moment, the future seemed far away, much further than her comfortable bed was at least.

And when she finally folded herself up in her sheets, letting out a long, satisfied sigh, she let her mind go blank, falling asleep almost immediately with a feeling of security and of contentment, two things that had heretofore been a rarity in the assassin's life.

* * *

Thanks very much for reading. I'm really going to make an effort to get chapters out sooner now that a bit of my life craziness has simmered down a bit. Appreciate the patience!

Please review! Thanks!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	11. An Untimely Call

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** If ANY of you are left after this long hiatus, thank you. Seriously. Thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing. And to those of you sending me PMs, I appreciate all of the conversations. Keeps my brain going!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money.

* * *

The sun felt almost hot on her back as she sat astride her board, swaying with the soft, small waves as she waited for a big one to ride back into the beach. She'd been out here for over an hour now and had only really caught a scant few good waves. It was just one of those mornings, she supposed, as she glanced over her shoulder towards the shore.

It was then that she spotted him.

A man was paddling out to her, lying on top of his board, a smirk on his face.

And as he neared, he pushed himself to sit like her, skillfully turning his board so that he was facing her. "Speak English?" he asked. He was an American, with dark, semi-long black hair pulled into a bun at the back of his head, and he was built well, with an attractive face.

For a a few seconds, Sarah contemplated speaking German and pretending she didn't know English. But then she thought maybe that was a little mean. So she shrugged. "Yeah."

"Oh! American? Lucky me." He smiled. "Catch any good ones?"

"Not enough."

"Not the best day for us surfers. But it's nice out."

She merely nodded.

"I'm Phil." He stretched his hand out and she took it, meeting his strong grip with one of her own. He seemed impressed by it and nodded towards shore. "Vacationing? Or do you live here? Let me guess. You live here and give surf lessons."

She let out an amused huff. "Vacationing."

"So I was wrong," he said with a charming grin and a shrug. "I'm sorry, I, uh…didn't catch your name."

There was nothing pushy about the way he said it. And she appreciated that. For a split second, she struggled over which name to give him. She'd been a Rose once. Another time, she was Wendy. Penelope. Brittany. It was while she was scrounging for another name that her mouth opened and "Sarah" came out.

As he repeated the name back to her and said something else, she realized how natural it had felt to call herself Sarah. No other name that she'd ever used in her entire life had felt quite so good. The name Sarah felt…right. It felt like home in a way that no other name ever had. And she'd had some names for months before. In at least one case, for more than a year. She'd only been Sarah for less than 3 weeks.

Was it because she hadn't done anything officially for the CIA in over a week? Or was it something else? Someone else? Maybe it was all of the above? Or maybe…maybe she was seeking something to cling to. She always had to leave everything behind. Friends. Family. Identities. Apartments. Hotels. Souvenirs. Maybe, she reasoned, it was that she was tired of always leaving things behind. Maybe she wanted to keep something with her for once. Maybe she didn't want to leave Sarah behind…

"Sarah?"

She shook her head. "Sorry. I've, uh…been out in the sun too long, maybe."

Phil laughed. "Oh. I thought that it was just that you didn't want to hurt my feelings by saying no."

"What?"

He paused. "You really didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"I'm afraid not. A lot on my mind."

"Can I help you with any of it?"She suddenly felt a little less comfortable with the situation as it was. And it wasn't that she wasn't in the mood for company, or anything like that. It was just that she'd already met a cute American who was on vacation in Nice, just like this cute American was. Except…that cute American was more than just a cute American. And the longer she talked to this one, the more she wanted to go back to shore now instead of waiting to ride a wave in.

"No. But thank you," she said.

"So…" Phil cleared his throat, fixing the St. Christopher he wore around his neck. "What I said was, uh…I just got here yesterday. Don't know the town too well. Think we could ride in together and I could take you to lunch somewhere?"

Sarah didn't even have to think about it. She shook her head and pressed her lips together. "I'm actually seeing someone."

His eyes looked genuinely disappointed as he rocked his head back with a large grin. "Aw mannn. Of course. Guy back home?" In spite of Sarah saying she was seeing someone, he leaned in a little closer and she subtly paddled her feet to get her board a few inches further away from him.

"No, uh…Here. Actually."

"Women and French men." He raised his hands up beside his face and shook his head, still grinning. "I can't compete."

Sarah smiled politely. He had no idea that the man he couldn't compete with wasn't a Frenchman at all. Chuck was an American, just like him. Maybe his chest wasn't all ripped and sculpted, or shaved and gleaming like Phil's. And he didn't have that little dimple in his chin that Phil had. But she'd felt Chuck's strength firsthand numerous times now, and she'd seen his passion. He had better hair and a more pleasing face. Certainly a better smile. In fact, she decided it was unfair to Chuck to be sizing him up against this guy.

And maybe it was unfair to Phil, too. He was probably a nice guy. And she imagined she might have a good time with him.

But Chuck…

She almost smiled to herself just thinking about the self-proclaimed nerd and how he'd been so patient teaching her how to play the best-selling video game he'd created, and how often and hard he made her laugh without even trying.

"I'm actually going to go in," she said, gesturing with her thumb towards the shore, suppressing the smile thoughts of Chuck Bartowski had brought to the forefront.

"Oh. Hey, how about I escort you? Keep you safe from jellyfish?" His grin was a little less charming now that she was growing weary of the encounter.

"That's okay. You just got out here."

"Aw, please. I'm never going to see you again."

Probably not, she thought. And it was for the best. She was certain he'd be out of her mind the moment she set foot on shore again. "It was nice talking to you," she said, ignoring his request. She didn't want to be mean, but if he kept pursuing, she'd have no choice.

Luckily he took that for the dismissal that it was and stayed bobbing in the water, straddling his longboard as she slid onto her belly and paddled back towards the shore. It was easy for her to ride the smaller waves in, finally standing up on dry land, lifting her board under her arm, and heading back up to the rental shack to turn it in.

It was a few minutes later that she got back to her hotel, her wetsuit unzipped to her lower belly, the torso and sleeves hanging at her waist, and her green bikini top on full display.

As she walked past the pool area, she spotted the familiar head of dark, curly hair as he stood up from one of the lounge chairs and gathered the white pool towel he'd been lying on. Chewing on her lip, she walked past the cabana and rounded the pool.

Chuck turned towards her when she was a mere five feet away and his eyebrows shot up, his face lighting up immediately. The grin on his face was such a beautiful sight after her uneventful morning out in the water.

"Sarah! Hey!"

"Hi," she said. "Saw you as I was walking past—What are you staring at?" Sarah raised an eyebrow. His eyes had quickly dropped to take in her bikini, ending at her belly button and sweeping back up to her face.

"Huh—what? What—Oh! No! Sorry! Sorry. You just look…you look so…There's really nothing special going on here—I mean, maybe it's just the combination of the green bikini top with the super tight black wetsuit on the bottom. Or the way it's just kind of unzipped and like…" He mimicked going limp and then stood up straight again, making a sheepish face. "You know what? You look super hot. There. I mean, obviously you look super hot. Otherwise I maybe would've been able to get a sentence out."

Sarah just shook her head and giggled. "Headed upstairs?"

"Yes, actually. I was going to order lunch and have it sent up. Like a true champion of laziness."

"Mmm that sounds really nice."

"Lunch or laziness?"

She giggled. "Both."

His phone buzzed and he held up a finger, digging in the pocket of his maroon trunks. He finally pulled it out. "Ah. Sister. Just a sec." He brought it up to his ear as she smiled patiently. "Hey, El. Sup. Mhm. Oh. No that's totally—No, please. Don't worry about it. Mi shower es su shower. No prob. Kay, talk to you soon." He hung up and sighed dramatically. "Apparently hotel staff let's _any_ riffraff in these days. Maid let my sister into my room so that she could use my shower since Devon is taking an overly long one and they've got to be somewhere soon. The guy is…well, he's awesome. But that goes hand in hand with being high maintenance."

Sarah laughed and shook her head.

"I was going to invite you to my room for lunch and laziness but that's out of the question now." He shrugged.

She didn't even have to think about it. "We'll move it to my place. Come on."

"You sure?" She gave him a flat look over her shoulder and he chuckled. "Guess you're sure."

Sarah grinned a bit to herself. "You'll just have to let me change out of this first."

There was a slight pause as he sped up to walk next to her. "You could stay in that. You know, if you wanted to."

She laughed again, shaking her head. Just as she'd assumed, the American surfer was long gone from her radar. And yet, the small amount of time she'd spent talking to him was what she might experience more often as someone who wasn't tied down to the CIA. Small moments with other human beings who weren't spies. Genuine moments, even if she didn't want to act on them. Without the CIA on her back, whether or not she accepted invitations like Phil's was completely up to her.

And she found she liked that.

She also liked the way Chuck reached down to delicately play with her fingers as they walked side by side, before he took her hand in his as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

—-

"I think salad is totally underrated in general."

Sarah craned her neck a little to look up at Chuck as he sat at the table by the window while she lay on the end of her bed, her legs hanging over, feet flat on the ground. "That was random."

"Well, I mean, I got the salad. So not entirely random."

"But we finished eating like a half hour ago or more.""It was such a good salad that I'm still thinking about it."

"Do you think about food often, Chuck?"

"What are you, my shrink?"

That made her laugh, a sudden, barking laughter. "You are such a goof."

"Yeeah, well…you like it."

Sarah propped herself up on one elbow and stared at him for a second as he looked back. "Yeah. I do."

"Just for clarification," he said in that way of his, extending his hand out and narrowing his eyes, "you like _all_ goofs, or just me?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Come here."

Chuck pushed himself up from his chair and rushed at a teasingly fast pace to sit beside her at the end of the bed. She continued laughing as the mattress bounced under his added weight, and even when the laughter drifted off, the wide smile on her face stayed.

The merely stared at one another for a few minutes before Sarah sat up, not pausing for even a second before putting her hand on his neck and going in for a kiss. As his arms wound around her torso to pull her closer, she was glad she'd chosen to shower while Chuck ordered lunch for them. Now she was fresh and clean, her hair wasn't caked in sand and saltwater, and she felt no reservations about swinging her leg over to the other side of his hip and kissing him a lot harder, holding his head by the tight grip she had on his curls.

He groaned softly, his fingers twisting in the material of the light cotton sundress she'd thrown on after her shower.

Sarah dropped her hands to the hem of his t-shirt, starting to lift it up his torso.

Chuck pulled away from the kiss and lifted his arms up over his head, causing her to giggle at how much he looked like a little boy in that moment. She got rid of the shirt and kissed him again, dragging her hands up and down his muscled back.

And as she felt his fingers on her thighs, tucking under the cotton skirt of the dress, teasing the hem, she sighed and rocked into his lap. He groaned and rounded his hands to her backside, tightening his fingers in an invigorating squeeze. Neither of them made a move to take it to the next step, instead just enjoying the moment they were in.

His hands dragged so passionately up to the small of her back, and he fisted the cotton material of her dress, twisting. She rocked into him again, teasing his lips with her tongue until he opened his mouth and whimpered, letting her explore.

Sarah immersed herself in him, letting all of her cares and worries fall away from her mind. And she eased her weight forward. Chuck took it easily, holding her, even cradling her against him.

They made out for what felt like not a lot of time, but was close to half an hour, their hands wandering, lips dragging over cheeks, jaws, necks. For a moment, Sarah worried that she'd have a hicky when Chuck sucked particularly hard on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. But then he'd moved on to much much better things, like sliding his fingers in the waistband of her panties and snapping them teasingly.

She pulled her lips back from his, gasping. "Hey, now…" she warned in a low voice, her arms around his neck and the fingers of one hand buried in his hair.

Chuck nudged her nose with his and then nipped at her lip, giving her a winning grin and bouncing his eyebrows. He snapped her waistband again and she bit her cheek to keep from giggling, shaking her head in silent reprimand.

Sarah used her grip on his hair and tug him back into a heated kiss, rolling her hips and causing him to groan. She could feel the bump under his swim trunks against her crotch and she purposefully pushed herself into it, grinding back and forth a few times.

They both whimpered and Sarah pulled away from the kiss, biting her lip, their foreheads still pressed together. She slid her free hand down his bare chest, pressing against his abdomen with her fingers as she dragged them all the way down to the ties of his trunks. She latched onto the tie and pulled it slowly, painstakingly, until it fell undone. And then she gave one hard yank to pull the velcro fly open.

He chuckled, his eyes wide, his lips turned up in amusement, and the look made her giggle.

They continued to make out, their touch heated and playful at the same time, and Sarah grabbed the skirt of her dress, moving it out of the way as she scooted further into his lap so that she was sitting directly on his cock, her underwear and his boxers the only impediment from full frontal contact.

As they devoured one another, she started rocking, sliding her crotch over his length, feeling how hard he was between her legs. Neither of them seemed to want to do anything about the material keeping them from joining properly, as focused as they were on kissing and touching.

Chuck dragged his lips down her neck, licking along her collarbone. She thrusted a little harder and he groaned, his breath hot against her skin. And she gasped as he nipped at her shoulder.

She continued to ride him slowly, arching to make sure they both felt everything.

As she slid her hands over his shoulders and down his back, feeling every last muscle, massaging him, still gyrating into his lap, she felt his breathing against her neck become more and more erratic.

She could also feel the buzz between her legs increase with each thrust. She tightened her body as she rode him, burying her face in his neck and going faster, harder. He whimpered and put a hand over her breast, squeezing her over her dress and bra. But it wasn't until he turned his face and sucked her earlobe between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, that she came.

"Hnng!" Sarah moaned into his hair.

She rocked a few more times, her movements jerky and desperate, before she went limp against him and let him hold all of her weight. He tucked his face into her hair and chuckled softly. She merely shut her eyes and squeezed him tight, letting out a long breath.

Sarah still felt his length pressed against her, and it was very hard, very pronounced, and calling for her attention again. So she slid her hand down between them and ground the heel of her palm up his shaft over his boxers.

"Mmmm, Sarah," he whimpered. And as she started to gyrate against him again, he suddenly grabbed her by her hips and held her still. "Wait, wait," he gasped. She pulled back a little, curious, and maybe a little concerned.

"Sorry," he breathed. "I just…this is all I have to wear right now and um…I don't want to get…anything…on them." He cleared his throat and she nearly laughed.

It made sense. So she shouldn't laugh at him. Especially since he diverted his eyes in an adorably shy sort of way. Instead, she gently kissed him at the corner of his lips, and carefully climbed out of his lap to stand in front of him. And then she lifted her dress up her body and over her head, tossing it off the edge of the mattress, out of the way, before moving to stand before him again.

His brown eyes took her in, heat in his gaze, that same awe and wonderment she saw there every time, and it sent a thrill through her. It was something no other man had made her feel when they looked at her. Not that the others weren't sincere about admiring her body. She knew she was fit. She worked hard for it, and not just to look good, but because her lifestyle meant she needed to be able to run, climb, fight…she needed endurance and strength to do what she did for a living.

But there was always a hunger there, and nothing else. Whereas Chuck's hungry gaze had so much in it. Not just admiration, but awe as well. Like she was giving him a gift standing in front of him like this…his wide eyes asking "For me? Really?"

It made her feel safe. It made her trust him with her body. She knew he would never take this for granted. And it wasn't that she needed and wanted to be cherished or worshipped or anything like that. Maybe it was asking too much to want to be treated with respect, considering the sort of life she led. Whether she deserved it or not, Sarah knew inherently that Chuck would always do it anyways.

He finally snapped to his senses and shook his head, tucking his fingers into the waistband of both his swim trunks and his boxers and standing up to push them down his legs, stepping out of them and kicking them off to the side so that he stood before her completely naked.

When he moved to divest her of her underthings, she took his hands in hers and lowered them to his sides, stepping close and starting to kiss his neck, dotting her lips up to his ear where she sucked on the lobe a little. And then she grazed his ear with her lips and whispered a soft, "Sit down."

She felt him smirk against her cheek and he complied, sitting on the edge of the mattress and smiling up at her. Sarah knew he had no idea what she was about to do to him, and it filled her with a sense of mischief.

Carrying that sense of mischief with her, she stepped up close to him, tucking herself between his legs so that he could lean in and kiss her hard abs. She let him lick her, tease her belly button, nip at one of her ribs mischievously…

And then she lowered herself to her knees, still between his legs and she turned her face to press her lips to his inner thigh. She sucked and gently bit him, moving up his thigh, further and further. She switched to his other thigh, enjoying the sound of him expelling his breath tightly.

"Sarah…" He sounded for a moment like he was going to tell her she didn't have to, but she wanted to so badly, so she did away with the rest of the foreplay she'd planned and gently took his shaft in her fingers, guiding the tip of him into her mouth.

His protestation became a soft and strangled cry, his body jolting. And it seemed he didn't have much he could say after that, for Sarah began stroking her fingers up and down his length as she used her tongue and lips to stimulate his tip, sucking gently.

Chuck's knuckles were white as he clung to the edge of the mattress, looking down at her with a look of absolute wonderment on his handsome face. And the soft moans of pleasure were half driving her mad.

She pulled her lips away and curled her fist around his hardness, jerking up and down quickly as he let his head fall back with a groan of her name. Wanting more, she leaned in and licked up the underside of his cock a few times, spending extra effort at the tip each time, and then she shifted and took him all the way in her mouth, pushing it deeper and deeper, before she began to bob her head up and down.

"God, that's so good," he panted. And he let go of the bed, tenderly swiping her hair away from her face without grabbing her head and pulling her or guiding her. He let her do whatever she wanted, he let her dictate the pace and depth. It bespoke of a great amount of trust. And that more than anything was what made her double down on her efforts.

"Ah!" he yelped, and it turned into a chuckle of awe and pleasure. "Holy…God! Sarah!"

She sank her lips lower and lower, and then swallowed, fighting back the gag reflex as he brushed the soft skin of her throat. He groaned loudly and let out a whimpered, "oh my god".

And then she pulled up so that just his tip was in her mouth and she sucked him a few times.

She rounded his length with her fingers and started pumping him again. She continued for awhile, varying between licking and sucking, using her fingers to stimulate the base of his cock and sometimes his balls, until she felt how thick and hard he was, the muscles in his abdomen twitching.

"So close," he panted, and as she peeked up at him, she saw how tense he was, his cheeks tinged with pink.

Sarah pulled her lips away and pumped him in her hand some more, quick and hard. He gasped in encouragement, repeating her name over and over, and as she covered him with her mouth again, sliding her lips down and giving him one last hard suck, he came.

Chuck cried out, gently gyrating his hips against her to empty himself, and then he fell back against the mattress and breathed hard, his chest heaving as he covered his face with his hands.

She spent a few more minutes down there, licking him, making sure she got every last drop, and then she eased him out of her mouth and crawled onto the bed, sidling up to him and propping herself up to look down at him, setting her hand that wasn't holding her head up on his chest and playing with the hair there. "Okay?" she asked quietly.

"Hnnnng," was all he was capable of, and then the dreamy look on his face collapsed into a lusty chuckle, his grin wide as he turned his face into her arm and nuzzled her with his nose.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, amusement crackling in her voice.

—-

She changed into nice tan shorts and a white blouse while Chuck went up to his suite to shower. It was another hour and a half before Sarah wandered down to the lobby to meet him. And she slowed down to a halt as she spotted him perusing a stand with brochures next to the concierge desk.

He was in jeans and a short sleeve button up, his hair not as messy as usual, meaning he'd taken care to fix it. And she stopped herself there. Because why was she already having thoughts about him like she'd known him for years? She didn't know what he did and didn't do with his hair. She just knew it was soft. And that it was one of the things that made him so attractive.

As she closed the distance, he turned his head a little and caught sight of her, smiling in greeting for just a split second before he thrust one of the brochures at her. "Look at this! Nightlife!"

Eyes wide, she took the brochure and turned it in her hands, peering down at it. "Huh. Cool. And…?"

"And we should check some of that out for tonight."

Sarah gave him a long teasing look. And he immediately backtracked, apparently having missed the teasing part.

"I basically just made your plans for you for tonight, didn't I? Yeeeah. Sorry. If you have other stuff going on, we can do some of this another night. When you're free."

She let out a soft huff of amusement and shook her head. "Chuck, it's okay. I don't have plans tonight. I'm on vacation alone, remember? More often than not, I'm going to be pretty much completely free all the time."

"Oh." That slow smile was just so deadly. And she should know…she was also deadly. But in a completely different way, it had to be said. "So…tonight?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "But what are we gonna do? There's a Riviera nightclub crawl. Just pop in and out of each one."

"Eh…I stopped crawling once I learned how to walk." Sarah gave him a different long look and he cracked a smile, which turned a little sheepish. "Sorry," he added. "It sounded funny in my head."

She snorted and shook her head, sweeping her gaze down the brochure. "Dinner and dancing in a few of these. Or we could do dinner somewhere. Then dessert at another place…"

"And find someplace more quiet and intimate to dance."

"What, like a jazz club?"

He nodded. There was a particular glint in his eye that made her smile a little. "Are you thinking about our first date, Chuck?"

"How did you know?" he drawled, shifting his weight and stuffing his hands in his pockets, smiling slowly.

Sarah shrugged and bit her lip. That had been intoxicating, dancing with him in such a small and intimate setting, the moonlight on them.

"It's been awhile since we danced. Like…a couple of days."

That made her laugh as she slid the brochure into her purse for later and turned towards the lobby doors, forcing him to turn with her as she clung to his arm. "Ohh yeah, wow. A couple of days."

He'd obviously been joking, but it reminded her that they hadn't actually known each other for a full week yet. She'd met him a mere couple of days ago. And he was already tucked deep, deep under her skin. She was more comfortable with him than she'd ever been with anyone. It was so dangerous, but not at the same time. Because she knew he'd never do anything to hurt her—the thing that worried her was what she was capable of doing to him.

She saw the way he looked at her as he took her hand, leading her across the road and into the streets of Nice to begin exploring. He was just as taken with her as she was with him. And why shouldn't he be considering the instantaneous, electrifying connection they had. He thought she was just a government worker, a translator, on vacation from her work and life. He had no knowledge of just how involved with the government she was. That she was practically a ghost, existing only in the form of names that weren't real. She could disappear better than anyone else in the world.

Chuck Bartowski had no idea that the woman he'd taken up with was the most dangerous woman on the planet. She lowered her head at that thought, wondering what he would say if he knew the truth.

He was the most complete person she'd ever met. Kind, thoughtful, understanding, fun, smart, unassuming, attractive, sexy…

But he wouldn't look kindly upon a murderess. She knew he wouldn't. Nobody would.

"Hey…"

She perked up and immediately turned to look at him, forcing a smile on her face.

His brow was furrowed in concern. "You okay? You looked pretty upset there for a second."

They stopped walking and he pulled her to the side under a shop's awning, nestling them in a small little brick nook carved into the building.

The way he was unconsciously rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, comforting and reassuring, nearly broke her. Instead of letting it, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm actually okay. I just let a dark thought get in my head, I guess."

"Dark thought? That sounds pretty intense. No dark thoughts on vacation, Sarah Walker." He smiled, nudging her hip with their interwoven hands.

She giggled. "No, no. Nothing intense. Just, uh…work stuff again."

Chuck raised his eyebrows and then nodded. "Well, you're on vacation. And work can't get you here."

God, how wrong he was about that.

But she smiled at him anyways. "You're right. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. And, you know, if you need to chat about it, you've got me. If you need to. I won't force you to, obviously." He held up his free hand and then let it fall back to his side.

Taking a moment to look at him, she finally pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and gave him a soft kiss. "You're so sweet."

He just smiled silently, his eyes bright and pleased.

"Shall we adventure?" she asked, fighting back the gloom.

"Adventure awaits!" he bellowed, causing passersby to give him looks, some in shock and others in amusement. "Oops." He folded into himself and caused her to laugh as she tugged him back down the street.

They found crepes that didn't have a long line out the shop door and indulged, and then they stumbled into a marketplace with too many vendors for them to even handle in one day. However, they did their best, making a weaving pattern through the vendors per Sarah's instruction.

Chuck bought her a fresh red apple and she bought him a watermelon, making him laugh as she walked up to him with it shoved under her arm. She'd grown to regret the decision the longer they stayed in the marketplace, however. Because the damn thing got heavier and heavier, and it suddenly wasn't even worth the joke. Even though Chuck was the one carrying it, she could see the way he'd started switching back and forth after almost two hours of exploration.

The couple had no way of eating the watermelon unless they bought themselves a massive knife. And then what would they do with that once they finished with it? Walk around with a knife? That would go down really well with the local authorities.

She didn't dwell too much on the fact that she had two knives tucked into the lining of her purse, as well as a small pistol.

After awhile, they found themselves at a vendor that was selling freshly baked baguettes and rolls. Chuck pulled her to a stop and handed her the watermelon, before buying them two baguettes that were probably three feet tall each. After hitting a few more vendors, he ended up with a large sack with bread, cheeses, some fruit, and two bottles of red wine.

It was after they'd stepped away with their haul that Sarah decided they needed to do something about the watermelon.

She knew hunger. She'd been on missions in which she hadn't been able to eat for days because she was keeping an eye on a mark. She also hadn't been able to go to the bathroom which…was a different story altogether.

Wasted food was a huge no-no.

But then she spotted a homeless man sitting on the steps behind the vendors. He had a small cup of coffee that someone had probably bought for him. She supposed being homeless in Nice wasn't quite as bad as being homeless in a place with frigid winters. But homeless was homeless.

Pursing her lips, she put a hand on Chuck's arm, stopping him. "Can you give me a minute before we head back? Just wanna do something real quick."

He blinked then raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, of course!"

Sarah smiled and then went back to the bread vendor, ordering one of their sandwiches that they sold. It had turkey and veggies, was smothered in balsamic and oil, and it was fresh and hot. In fact, it had her stomach she didn't take a bite out of like she wanted to. Instead, she stepped around Chuck, hoisted the watermelon under her arm a little more comfortably, and walked up to the man on the step. He eyed her with a smidgeon of confusion for a second, but when she offered him the sandwich, telling him in French to enjoy a nice lunch on her, the confusion was gone. In its place was a tentative smile as he reached up to take it. When she set the watermelon down in front of him, he laughed at it, then took a knife out of his boot, stabbing it into the watermelon. He nodded his thanks with a gruff "merci" and she left him with his meal, heading back to Chuck's side.

He was looking at her funny, she realized as she approached. "…What?"

He shrugged and answered with a strangely quiet, "Nothin'."

And as they walked back, Chuck shifted the bag so that he could hold it with one arm, purposefully taking her hand and not letting go of it until they got back to his suite.

"For the record, this mess isn't really me," he was quick to assure her as they walked into the sitting room. "What I mean is…I'm not a messy kind of person. I'm usually super neat. I just had a particularly…um…lazy day."

Honestly, while there were papers strewn about the desk by the window, shoes on the floor by the couch, and video game controllers on the coffee table, nothing else looked all that messy. So she shot him a flat look. "If this is messy, I can handle messy."

He chuckled and set down the bag of food on the table, doing his best to straighten out the papers. "Fair enough. All of these stupid forms I have to fill out while I'm on vacation." He held them up for her to see and sighed, giving her a tired look. "The bureaucracy I have to go through to have my own company…makes me crazy sometimes."

Sarah just smiled, digging into the bag and grabbing their food.

They ate in companionable silence, jokingly fighting over a particularly luscious strawberry. Chuck eventually won and got to eat the strawberry, but Sarah also considered herself a winner in the battle, as she ended up sitting in his lap and tasting it anyways as their wrestling turned into a heated make out session.

Eventually she got back to her room and splayed herself out on her bed, staring at the ceiling and dozing. A few hours went by and her phone alarm buzzed at her. So she pulled herself up from her bed and took another shower.

Chuck's eagerness for the Nice nightlife made her dig deep into her arsenal of formal wear. It was a black dress, strapless, that hugged her figure all the way down to a few inches above her knees. And her black pumps with the massive heels. But she kept her hair down, flowing past her shoulders in waves.

As she put on her last earring, she heard her phone ringing in the bedroom. Figuring it was Chuck telling her he was heading up, she rushed to grab it, her stomach doing a flip as she saw Graham's number instead of Chuck's.

"Shit," she breathed, having actually forgotten completely about him, and about the huge decision she still had to make. She licked her lips and swiped to answer, holding it to her ear. "Walker. Clear."

"Agent." She held back a sigh and slumped down to sit on the edge of her bed. "How is your extended vacation going? Doing anything fun?"

"Why has it taken you this long to get in contact with me?" she asked, bypassing his snarkiness. He did this all the time with her, but she really didn't have the time for it right now.

"I'm the director of the CIA, Sarah." It felt weird hearing him call her that. Even though he usually tended to call her by whatever the last name she used on a mission happened to be. "I have a lot going on."

"I'm sure you do. But I've been wandering around Nice wondering what the hell is going on. And then you sent that douche bag Edison to tell me about the rendezvous. Can you just tell me my orders and we can bypass all of this nonsense?"

"It's not that easy, Sarah."

"Why?"

"Because we aren't entirely sure what to do with you yet."

She felt a chill go down her spine. "Sir…What does that mean?"

"My personal feelings on your performance lately make me question your commitment to this job. To this lifestyle. Sometimes I wonder if your heart is still in it."

Sarah nearly scoffed at that. She could hear a tinge of mockery in his voice. He was well aware of the way he'd plucked her out of her life—which, granted, hadn't been a great one—and made her into a killing machine. When she was still almost a kid.

When the hell was her heart in _anything_ over the last ten years? He'd done his best to make sure her heart was buried under reams and reams of duty and death. The bodies she'd left in her wake…

And yet, he was probably somewhat serious when he said her heart wasn't in it. He knew enough about her, he'd known her better than anyone else ever had…and he could probably tell how much the last few assassinations had affected her. They'd all left such a bitter taste in her mouth. More than before, certainly. She thought she'd improved as far as hiding it behind a mask of professionalism, but maybe Graham saw through that.

She'd questioned him, talked back to him, a few times. Something she'd never done before.

She was changing. And he wanted her to stay the way she was. A machine. IQ.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"A lot of things. Which means you have a decision you need to make. Either you're in. Or you're out. If you're in, you're going deep in. I'm going to bury you in this stuff until the only thing you see is what's at the end of your rifle's muzzle. I know you." He paused. "You don't know anything but what I've given you. This existence. You need to find that again. You'll get more details on the mission Monday when you rendezvous with my guy."

Another long pause. "And if you're out, Walker…Well…Then you're out for good. There's no getting back in. You have to know, I'm not saying this to be cruel. You're my best agent. Nobody else in the world can do what you do. I value you for that." He sighed. "There's no possible way a person like you can make a life outside of this. Outside of what you do for us every day. You're in too deep, Sarah. Just like I am. Just like so many of us are."

It was so easy for him to say that. He had a family. He was the director of the CIA. He had a face that was in public. He was the puppet master who got all of the credit for their successes. (Granted, he also got credit for their failures. And he did that part of the job honorably.) He regularly dined with the president in the White House, shook hands with Congressmen and women, knew their spouses and their children, their dogs' names.

Langston Graham had a regular life when he walked away from Langley at the end of the night.

She didn't. So many of the agents didn't. They were ghosts like she was. Apparitions. But she also knew no one was quite as disconnected from the real world.

None of this made what he'd just said to her any less right.

 _Too deep._

Sarah clamped her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering.

"You probably already know where I stand," she said.

"I'm at about a 98%," he answered, and she could almost see his nonchalant shrug.

She heard Chuck's shuffling feet outside of the door and decided to cut this call off before Graham heard the knock. "Monday, then," she said.

And she hung up.

The knock sounded just as she put her phone down.

Sarah took a moment to gather herself, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose to keep from crying.

The ache in her chest she could handle. But she didn't want to cry in front of Chuck. He would be concerned, and she'd just have to make up another lie.

She was tired of making up lies to tell him. She was so tired of it.

The implications of the phone call with Graham sat like an anvil in her stomach for the rest of the night, even as she enjoyed the food and the dancing. And by the end of the night, as much as she wanted to bury herself in Chuck's arms, feel something else—something infinitely more pleasurable than the heaviness she'd been feeling all night—she opted to go to sleep alone, citing tiredness from the day.

He hadn't been put out or confused. There were no tinges of disappointment in his warm gaze.

Instead, Chuck cupped her face, kissed her, said goodnight, and left with a smile on his face.

In spite of everything churning inside of her, Sarah found herself smiling too as she shut the door behind him.

* * *

Thanks again for reading! Please review! Share with friends. All that good stuff.

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	12. The Claimed Assassin

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and sent me lots of messages asking about the story. I had a major technology crash and it set me back quite a bit. I had no Internet and no laptop for awhile. Rest assured, I'm back. So is **The Trapped Assassin**. And I'm back with a vengeance. You'll see why.

Thanks to anyone who is still here reading.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

Lying around staring at the ceiling had done nothing to solve Agent Walker's current issues.

Tugging her laptop out and watching videos on YouTube hadn't helped, either.

And so she'd climbed out of bed eventually, in the late morning, set aside her laptop, and threw on some jeans, sneakers, and a pullover sweater since the air was a little cooler when she stepped out on her balcony.

The rental place near her hotel had a nice little sky blue colored bicycle waiting for her and she promptly ventured into the city.

For once, she hadn't thought to invite Chuck.

Because Langston Graham's words from the phone call the night before were circulating in her head. They'd only stopped long enough for her to get a few hours of sleep.

How was she supposed to make this kind of decision in three days when she'd never had to make any decisions like this before?

Back when she was first pulled into the CIA, Graham had verbally told her she had a choice. But it was no choice. Any scared nearly-17-year-old would have made the decision she'd made a decade ago. She'd had no choice there. Live or die? Not a hard decision.

Her path had taken her into some trees and the path had become a little more gravelly after that, so she'd had to focus more on not crashing, but it smoothed out again and she slowed her pace, meandering through the less populated streets. Anybody else might've gotten lost by now, but Sarah didn't get lost. Ever. There were maps in her head. She always knew where she was.

She had to.

She'd learned the hard way when she was 18 and still training at the Farm.

They'd kidnapped her from her bunk in the middle of the night with a hood over her head and drove her into the wilderness where they left her to fend for herself. It took her two days to get out. And another day and a half to get back to the Farm. After that, she'd studied maps, survivalist methods, and anything else that might prepare her in case they tried to do it again.

She knew better now.

She knew the streets and alleyways of Nice. She knew where she was at all times. And while it was a handy life skill, she wished it wasn't necessary. Along with a lot of other things. Like always being 100 percent aware of her surroundings, the people around her, places where she could duck and cover in case bullets went flying.

For every mile she rode, there were dozens of people whose faces she'd seen, whose faces were now stuck in her head so that if she saw them again, she'd recognize them. It was a skill that kept her alive more times then not in her ten year career as a CIA assassin. Recognizing a face meant getting the jump on them, putting a bullet through their forehead before they even got their gun all the way out of its holster. She was never wrong, either.

"You don't know anything but what I've given you. This existence," Graham had said. In some ways he was right. Who was she kidding? He was completely right. But he was wrong about how well he knew her. He obviously didn't know her as well as he thought, because this decision was proving a lot harder than he could've possibly predicted. And maybe she didn't know anything outside of the CIA, the life she lived with danger and adrenaline, carrying out orders, and afterwards waiting for more orders. But she was learning.

They'd called her a fast learner at the Farm, and she was certainly learning fast now.

For instance, she'd learned what her real laugh sounds like. She'd learned how to appreciate Nice for its air of romance. And how sweet strawberries tasted on someone else's lips. Champagne, too.

She'd learned how to enjoy.

She didn't know what the catalyst was, when her enjoyment of the little things really started, but she knew it was before she was even given Roland Taft's dossier. Months before. Maybe even longer.

And now, whether they had done it on purpose or not, Graham and his superiors had given the CIA's Wildcard Enforcer the chance to learn how sweet life was outside of the CIA bubble. She'd gotten a chance to experience life the way normal people do, the way regular girls do. And she'd had the opportunity to spend time with a regular guy. Well, an extraordinary guy, honestly. But he had nothing to do with the government.

And that was the first time she really thought about Chuck for hours. It was a little encouraging, knowing she'd gone that long without thinking about his eyes, the way his laugh made her chest constrict, the feeling of his fingers digging into her hips as she sat astride him, his breathy whimper of her name so close to her ear.

Sarah shook her head, forcing herself to focus on getting back to her hotel in one piece. That was a thought she really shouldn't think while riding a bike through a large group of people. She'd already killed one person in Nice—well, maybe more than one considering she blew up a yacht last week—and that was enough.

If she could go this long without thinking of the man she'd spent more time with than she had without in this past week, it meant he wasn't the only factor in her decision. She couldn't let a man be what swayed her decision. There had to be more to it. Because that man—as much as she liked him, as much as she liked being with him—was not going to be around forever. Chuck Bartowski wasn't a guarantee. She couldn't quit the CIA for him.

But she might quit for everything else.

Like enjoying sunsets without looking over her shoulder. And not adding to the already numerous nightmares about the people who'd died by her hand. Having an apartment where she could keep actual things without fearing someone might break in and find information about her real identity, or find her Achilles' heel.

It would be worth it if she could live a life free of all of this stress, if she could retire her rifles and never have to look through the scope of one again.

But what kept putting a snag in the decision was just how much she knew she didn't deserve it.

When people who didn't have CIA credentials murdered another person, they went to prison. The so-called Ice Queen was simply given another file, with another dossier—another mission that would end up with another person dead. Or people, depending on who got in her way.

What if she quit the CIA and she was already too far gone? What if she was "too deep" as Graham had phrased it? She'd be stuck outside of the CIA, outside of what had been her home of sorts for ten years of her life. And she'd have no purpose. What if she started killing to feed the urge? Like a serial killer. As Sarah pulled up to the rental stall hours and hours after she first rented the sky blue bicycle, she realized she was being melodramatic. She wasn't addicted to killing. She'd never been addicted to killing and she never would be. She didn't have an itchy trigger finger.

But it was the only thing she was good at.

How does one make a career of killing into a career of…accounting? Or real estate? Or nursing? Or anything else that normal people did for work?

She strolled up the road towards the hotel and she thought of Chuck again. He was probably up there somewhere, completely unaware of her struggle, unaware of the massive decision she had to make in a few days, unaware of the fact that he was playing a part in it.

Sure, he wasn't what would ultimately sway her either way, she knew. She wasn't the type to let a silly romance dictate the direction of her life. But she was fooling herself if she didn't admit that he'd gotten himself deep under her skin. Graham told her she'd gotten too deep with the CIA. There was no way she could build a life outside of that.

But she thought maybe she'd allowed herself to get too deep with Chuck as well. The difference was that while she didn't want to be too deep in the darkness of the life of an assassin, she didn't much care how deep she was with Chuck Bartowski. He was a lot safer, for one.

Though there was always the part about her leaving. And how that would affect him.

Who was she kidding? It was going to affect her, too. Whether she left for the CIA, or left for a new life, it was going to feel awful. She was in the thick of it, wasn't she?

And as she slid into the shower, letting the lukewarm jet of water beat against her sore limbs from her hours long bike ride, she let herself dream about what it might be like to let herself fall even deeper into him.

The shower was her safe space, after all. It was where she let her guard down. She let herself dream here, and think about all of the 'what might have beens' and 'what ifs'.

She could imagine herself snuggling into Chuck's side on a couch—his couch in LA—and as the sun set, they'd start some movie he never stopped talking about. He'd commentate through the whole thing, and even annoy her a little. And she'd have to shut him up by kissing him. But that plan would backfire completely because she'd miss the rest of the movie while they made out. Better yet, he might carry her into his bedroom where she'd promptly turn his world on its head.

Maybe she would show up at his work and bring him lunch. Or he'd show up where she worked to pick her up after her shift was over or whatever it was she happened to do for a job, and he'd take her to dinner. They'd go dancing. They'd blend into the crowd on the dance floor. A regular couple having fun in a larger group of people having fun. Just two people in the world.

Maybe they'd take a long weekend drive up the coast, hole up in some cozy beachside town like Cambria. They'd walk up and down the beach together, cook in the little house they'd rent's kitchen, play a card game game at the table by the window that overlooked the Pacific Ocean…And Sarah would let her competitive spirit get the best of her after he won. They'd wrestle…She'd laugh so hard her side hurt. And she'd open her eyes again to find that he'd carried her to the couch—no, into the bedroom actually. They would spend all night and into the next day exploring one another's bodies, opening their hearts…

The assassin could picture how wild and free she'd be on vacation with Chuck Bartowski. Without the shackles of the CIA around her ankles.

And when she thought hard enough, she could picture how wild and free she'd be with him in general. Just living life.

She continued let herself imagine as she took an extra long shower.

Getting stuck in legendary LA traffic together. She'd be frustrated, upset because they'd be late for…a party or something. And he'd say, "Welcome to Los Angeles, baby." Then he'd turn on music and sing or dance and make her laugh. And she'd start to sing and dance, too.

By the time Sarah got out of the shower, she was smiling.

But the smile dimmed as the cool air of her bedroom hit her the moment she stepped out of the steamy bathroom. She was foolish to think about those things. No matter what happened on Monday, no matter what decision she made, Chuck Bartowski was no guarantee. Happiness was no guarantee.

She started getting stir crazy as she sat alone on her balcony, the sun slowly arching towards the west over her head.

The assassin loved having control.

But this kind of control wasn't the kind of control she needed.

It wasn't like the control she had during missions. She took lead during missions, always making sure she had the upper hand. It was where she operated best.

Now she had control over the rest of her life. She'd never had to deal with a decision like this. This was too much control. So much control over her own life that she didn't even know what to do with it. She was aware enough to know just how horribly dysfunctional that was. The CIA had trained her in a way that hadn't allowed her to control the trajectory of her own life, and now ten years later they were handing her a choice on a silver platter. A choice to leave them behind, to leave _all of this_ behind.

Sarah left her suite and disappeared into Nice again, hurrying to the promenade, and finally being able to take a long, deep breath.

She needed something that she couldn't control. Right now.

Nature.

The breeze blowing her hair about her face. The waves beating against the rocks beneath her.

She walked along the promenade, watching people not to protect herself from them, but to simply observe. Even the man who looked forlorn, lost almost as he sat on the bench she passed by, was feeling something. Sadness, most likely. Maybe he'd had his heart broken. Even an emotion as painful as that seemed a blessing compared to the outright numbness Sarah'd felt here and there over the years. At her lowest points.

She sought solace from her melancholy in the glowing orb of the sun slipping lower and lower. That was something she'd never have control over. Nobody would ever tell her to decide whether or not the sun should set, or whether the moon should conduct the tide.

Before she knew what was happening, her phone was up against her ear. She needed distraction.

"Hello?"

"Hi," she said, her nerves and anxiety that had been roiling in her gut settling immediately as relief flooded through her. She didn't recognize her decision to call him for what it was—she was seeking comfort, not distraction. And Chuck could comfort her like nothing else in the world. Something deep inside of her knew that, but it wasn't loud enough for the rest of her to hear.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"No, no I have not. Have you?"

"No."

"You should do that."

She laughed and leaned forward, putting her elbows on the railing. "You want to meet me to watch the rest of the sunset? I have the perfect place in mind. We can eat after."

Sarah heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

"Just getting my shoes on. Where you want me?"

Everywhere, a naughty voice inside of her head said. She bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the naughty voice.

"Walk out to the promenade, turn right, and follow it until you see me. I'm wearing a brown dress."

He chuckled. "That's pretty cute, you telling me what you're wearing. Like you won't stand out no matter who's around you."

"Shut up," she said warmly.

"I mean, it's really adorable when extremely beautiful people don't realize how much they stand out amongst us regular looking people."

"I'm going to sock you when you get over here, just so you know."

"I can't wait. Be there soon."

"Hurry. You only have 40 minutes until sunset."

He gasped dramatically and she hung up on him, giggling even as she hung up the phone. She pushed any further thoughts about control and decisions and choices out of her head and enjoyed the breeze on her face, before she started her leisurely stroll back to the steps she'd found when she first got to Nice.

25 minutes later, as she stood next to the steps in question, a feeling that was the opposite of loneliness came over her. She glanced over to see Chuck in the distance, strolling along, fixing the collar of his jacket with one hand as he looked out to sea, a bag clutched in his other hand.

He looked like he might say something as he approached, but she cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to the staircase that led down to the beach. They moved far enough down to where people passing by on the promenade wouldn't see them, but high enough that they'd see the sun setting.

She sat down first and he joined her, scooting in close, grinning out at the sun, his face and teeth glinting in the reddish orange light.

"So what's in that bag of yours?" she asked, reaching over to poke it.

"Ah, yes. I thought you might like this native delicacy." He opened the bag and pulled it out, offering it to her. "Beignet?"

She stared at the fried hunk of twisted dough doused in powdered sugar and immediately started salivating. "Wait, just one?"

"Ha! When you buy beignets, you don't just buy _one_ , Sarah. Come on." He tilted the bag for her to look inside. "These are small, too, so I got four each."

Sarah bit her lip and ran her eyes down his body, sliding them back up to meet his gaze slowly. "Mmm. What a guy you are, Chuck Bartowski."

He chuckled and took one out for himself.

As they silently watched the sun sink lower and lower, munching on their beignets, Sarah tilted into Chuck's side and nuzzled his shoulder with her cheek. It felt so good sitting here, watching the uncontrollable sunset, feeling the uncontrollable breeze against her face… And for the first time today, she felt comfortable. She felt like she didn't have to decide anything. She didn't have to choose. She could just be here with Chuck's hand casually resting on her thigh, tilting the bag towards her to offer her another beignet.

"I had my four."

He gasped dramatically and snatched the bag back from her. Then he chuckled. "I wasn't actually counting, so good thing you were." He dug into the bag and nabbed the last beignet, shoving the full thing into his mouth with an om nomm nomm sound.

She laughed and leaned away from him as he chewed almost painfully, still trying to shove it all the way in his mouth. It took him awhile to eat the whole thing, nearly choking on powdered sugar in the meantime as she thumped him on the back. And when he swallowed, licking his lips, she giggled and leaned back into him.

As the sun finally dipped behind the sea to the west, the air around them felt cooler, the breeze a little harsher. She shivered even with the cotton sweater she wore over her dress and with his arm curled around her, pulling her in close.

"This is a nice spot to watch the sunset," Chuck said, stretching his legs out more and getting comfortable, which meant shifting her to lean more against his chest apparently. If that was how he got comfortable, she wasn't complaining. He was nice and warm.

"You like it?"

"Mhm. I particularly like that it's both in plain sight and out of it at the same time." She craned her neck to look back at him curiously. "Well, I mean we're in public here. But nobody can see us unless they're standing right at the top of the staircase or down on the beach. Nobody's down on the beach, and nobody's standing up there, so it's like we're alone."

Sarah smirked a little and turned her body to face him better, wrapping her arm around his neck and leaning all of her weight against his chest. "Probably the most alone we can get while out in public." She gently pressed her lips to his jaw, then slowly dotted kisses that followed his jaw bone, stopping when she got to his ear.

She squeaked in surprise when he gave her a quick yank, causing her to fall into his lap, her hands grasping his shoulders for balance. "I thought nerds were supposed to be shy, timid things…" she giggled with a teasing glint in her eye.

Chuck merely answered her with a sardonic look. "We have a way of coming alive when we're alone with certain women."

" _Certain_ women? Why, what _could_ you mean by that?" She put a hand on her chest, a faux offended look on her face.

That made him chuckle and he hugged her to his chest. Grinning, she squeezed him tight with her arms around his shoulders and placed her cheek over his heart, glancing out at the sky where the sun had just disappeared. "God, it's almost more beautiful after the sun is gone, isn't it?" she breathed, taking in the uneven streaks of stunning, deep oranges and reds dotted with clouds here and there.

She felt his chest bounce against her cheek. "What?" she asked, pushing herself away just enough to look up at him.

"Almost said something super corny."

"What'd you almost say?" She propped her elbows on his shoulders and tilted her head with a smirk.

"Well, I didn't work out the exact wording, but it was going to be something about that," he nodded his head towards the sky over her shoulder, "and how it doesn't hold a candle to your beauty." He made a face. "Pretty bad, right?"

"I mean, it's not great."

"Thanks," he drawled, giving her a flat look.

She laughed and slid her hands over his ribcage, around to his back, and slowly pushed her chest into his, grinding their bodies together. "Corny or not, it's a nice sentiment," she said quietly, her voice crackling with just how good it felt to be pressed against him like this.

Chuck only had to tilt his chin up to kiss her, and as their lips met, Sarah felt something else crackling, flames licking at her feet, slowly crawling up her long legs and settling in her lower stomach.

With a graceful shift of her body, she was straddling him, kissing him sensually, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around his torso, and moving her other hand to cup his neck gently.

The crackling flames licked even harder inside of her when his warm hand settled on her knee and slowly dragged under the hem of her dress, sliding so far up her thigh that she felt his fingers teased the waistband of her panties. She pulled out of the kiss, pecking his lips for good measure, rubbing her nose against his, grinning. He dove in and started kissing her jaw slowly, squeezing her thigh so that her eyelids fluttered.

"Remember how I asked you to dinner?" she asked breathlessly. He made a soft hum of acknowledgment and tightened his arm around her. "Those beignets destroyed my appetite."

Chuck laughed and pulled back. "And you tried to eat another one, too."

"I didn't. You offered me another one. I told you it was yours."

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled. And then he moved in again to tease her collarbone with his teeth, his tongue flicking out to lave the gentle bites. "I'm not all that hungry, either, but it might've been the 4 meals I ate today. Not counting the beignets." He sucked on her skin over her pulse point and she just barely withheld a moan.

Instead she turned her face and kissed him slowly, with a good amount of heat, letting him taste her tongue for a moment, before gently pulling back again. She spoke with her lips brushing over his. "I might have a way we can get our appetites back, Chuck…"

She bit her lip suggestively and she felt his body shiver pleasurably beneath hers.

"Back to the hotel?" he asked in a rushed breath.

"Let's go."

"Yep."

 **—**

"Keep going, Chuck…"

"I'm trying. You're just a lot for a guy to handle."

She let out a breathless sigh of amusement and grabbed his shoulder, urging him on. "Come on. You got this…"

He groaned, his breath coming in quick puffs.

"Keep pushing…"

"Oh God…"

"Almost there…almost!"

Sarah's legs were aching but she kept going, kept encouraging him. They were so close…

"So close…so… _Yes!_ " she cried out.

She watched as he collapsed to his knees in the sand, hunching over in exhaustion, and she threw her fists in the air in celebration, jogging in place. "Woo! See? Didn't I say you could do it? 2 and a half miles."

"You know…" He took a deep, painful-sounding breath in and let it out again slowly, a bead of sweat dripping from his hairline down the back of his neck and running into his t-shirt. "This was not what I had in mind when you said you had a way we could…get our appetites back," he panted.

"It isn't?" she asked innocently. She stopped jogging in place when he flopped to the side and laid there limply, almost like someone had cut the strings holding him up. "No, no…" She went to his side and forced him back up to his feet, helping him swat the sand off of his sweaty body. "You can't run that much and then stop moving. It will make your heart do bad things. You have to cool down."

"Cool down. Talk about..cool down," he wheezed, sending her a teasing glare. "You…gave me…quite the cool down…back…at…the hotel."

She giggled and patted his chest, gesturing for him to follow her again, jogging at a much lighter pace than before. She'd had them turn back awhile ago, knowing Chuck would never agree to 2 miles out and 2 miles back.

She wasn't going to trick him into it, either. That wasn't her style.

Though she really had given him a bit of a cool down.

They'd gotten back to the hotel quickly, practically speed-walking back along the promenade, holding hands. And once they got into the hotel lobby, they slid into the elevator. She'd nearly smirked when she pressed the button to her floor and he didn't make any kind of move to press the button to his own floor. And when the doors opened, he made like he was going to follow her to his room but she put a hand on his chest. "Meet you at the pool in 15. A good run will get us our appetites back."

She'd left him there, gaping after her. But she knew he'd enjoyed the game, because he was there waiting for her at the pool 15 minutes later when she came down, a look of fake disdain heavily dosed with amusement on his handsome features.

Chuck caught up to her now and kept pace for a few minutes.

"You know, women who tease like that usually get their comeuppance. Eventually," he teased, breaking the silence.

"Do they?"

"Yeah. They do. So you better be careful."

She ran ahead and turned to face him, jogging backwards, smirking and tilting her head. "And what exactly does comeuppance entail?"

"Keep teasing and you'll find out."

"You threatenin' me, nerd?"

"What if I am?"

She tilted an eyebrow. "Wow. Feeling pretty cheeky, aren't we?"

His shrug was one part nonchalance, one part confidence. And it was a little unsettling how sexy she found it.

"Although I'd have to be able to catch you before I could punish you."

Her sneakers brushed against the top of an old, washed away sand castle and she nearly toppled onto her ass. Sarah caught herself just in time, but they both halted anyway, and she peered at him with slightly wide eyes. Did he just say 'punish'? Because it sounded like he'd just said 'punish'.

"Not an easy feat at all," he continued, obviously unaware of how what he'd just said affected his companion. "You can run circles around me." She furrowed her brow, about to deny it. "Don't try to pretend you wouldn't run this route three times faster if I wasn't here."

"You aren't being fair to yourself, Chuck—"

"You're being kind," he said with a good-natured laugh. "I'm not ashamed. You're legit too fit to quit. You'd probably even smoke Captain Awesome."

There was something so disarmingly sexy about how genuinely unbothered he was by the fact that she was fitter than he was. There was none of the bruised ego she'd experienced from some of the male agents she'd sparred with at the Farm. Men with sex on the brain when they challenged her to a sparring match usually ended up flat on their backs with her shoe pressing down on their crotch. A blatant threat from her. They'd typically left the scene pissed or embarrassed.

And here was Chuck, impressed by her instead of emasculated or intimidated. In all fairness, he had no reason to be intimidated, considering he knew nothing of her career with the CIA. He didn't know about the weapon cases stashed behind the ironing board in the closet of her suite.

"I could always run and we can find out," she quipped, her words dripping from her lips like honey.

But he had her wrist in his hand, his grip tight but gentle at the same time. "You'd have to escape first."

"And if I don't escape? If I stay right here instead?" She sidled up close. "Do I get my comeuppance?"

"Try me."

She snaked a hand around him without him noticing and pinched him through his basketball shorts. He jumped with a wince and his jaw fell open as she broke his grip and ran.

"Hey!"

Sarah laughed like a maniac as she glanced at him over her shoulder. He sprinted after her, and he was surprisingly fast. Though, he really did have long legs, and she'd come to know their strength rather intimately in the past week.

Her survival instincts kicked in as adrenaline coursed through her, and she dodged to the side blindly, feeling his hand miss as he tried to make a grab for her, his fingers brushing against her hip harmlessly.

"Ninja!" he yelled out, and she threw her head back in laughter, turning on her heels and watching him with a massive grin as he bent his knees a little, making to spring for her.

She dodged him easily again, squealing breathlessly.

And then he narrowed his eyes at something over her shoulder. Her spy instincts kicked in, and even as she turned to see what he was looking at, she knew she'd been duped. But she was still too late to stop herself, and he had both hands clamped around her forearm.

"No!" she yelled, trying to tug herself out of his grip. They struggled, their voices ringing out over the empty beach, their laughter mingling.

She planted a hand on his chest and gave him a hard push, yanking back, but her foot caught on that damned sand castle bump again, and this time she toppled backwards.

"Ha!" Chuck cried out in triumph, quickly crawling over to straddle her, pinning her hands to the sand. "That, my lady, is Mr. Poseidon helping a brother out."

Sarah laughed hard, wriggling underneath him. She knew an easy, quick way to get out of this situation, but she was biding her time, playing along.

She arched her body up into his crotch, feeling his purely male anatomy against her for a long moment before she eased back down to the sand. She heard him grumble in pleasure and bit back a gratified smirk.

"S'that so?" she asked. And with a quick move, she brought one leg up to wrap around his front, throwing her weight into him so that he ended up flat on his back. She swung herself around to straddle him, pinning him with his wrists up by his head in a mimicry of the position he'd had her in a moment before. "Well, I've got the powers of Calypso. You know who she is?"

"I might have an idea."

Sarah yelped in surprise when he got her on her back using his brute strength, his weight pressing her down into the sand. "Ooo. So strong," she teased.

He chuckled and wiggled his hips against hers. "You betcher sexy bottom I'm strong."

She threw her weight to the side with a grunt of effort, but he pushed back so that they ended up on their sides, both of them grappling for control. She pushed her arm against his throat and got him pinned again, her palm flat against his cheek, pressing his head into the sand. "You think I'm sexy?" she panted.

His eyes flashed as she lifted her hand. "You're kidding, right?"

She let him get her onto her back and crawl over her, and just when he thought he had her right where he wanted her, she fought with him again. They rolled over and over in the sand, laughing, grunting, hands grappling. Fingers dug into skin under their clothes, muscles clenching, and the heat was building exponentially between them, even as they grinned and laughed at the game.

Until Chuck finally got Sarah pinned again. "So is this my comeuppance, then?" she asked, unconsciously flicking her gaze down between their bodies where his groin pressed tightly against hers in a way that let her feel a lot of him. Enough of him that she wanted to feel so much more.

"You're seriously obsessed with this whole comeuppance thing," he said, furrowing his brow teasingly.

She craned her neck to look deep into his brown eyes, her own blue eyes flashing. "I don't like a man who promises something he can't deliver," she said through clenched teeth. It was a challenge.

And he took the bait hook line and sinker.

His jaw clenched.

Time stood still for a moment…and then his lips crashed down into hers. The kiss was hard, their tongues meeting, teeth knocking. Chuck's arms pushed between her body and the sand and he held her close, kissing her with the kind of passion people describe in books, the kind of passion she hadn't believed in even a few weeks ago.

She whimpered, flinging her arms around his shoulders and arching her hips up against his. And then she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, pulling herself as close to him as was physically possible, dragging her hand down the muscle of his back, tucking it under his damp shirt and feeling his hot skin.

He whimpered this time, and then she gasped, throwing her head back as Chuck thrusted slow and hard between her legs. "Oh, Chuck," she whispered.

They were both covered in sand, and neither seemed to care as she turned him onto his back. She rolled to lie on top of him and cupped his face, still kissing him, grinding herself down against his cock under his shorts and boxers.

She felt him hardening as he groaned into her mouth, so she kept doing it, tangling her fingers in his hair, tugging in that way she knew he liked. He groaned louder and she spared just a momentary thought to just how much she liked being right about this man.

Sarah lowered her free hand down and tucked it under his shirt, slowly running her nails over his clenching abdomen muscles. She rocked her hips into him again and he whimpered, closing a hand over her ass and squeezing.

She was caught off guard, giving him the opportunity to pin her into the sand again. And then he held her, burying his face in her neck, as he started thrusting into her in earnest.

"Nng! Chuck!" she let out a breath in awe and clenched her eyes shut, holding him, feeling just how hard he was now. He turned his head and kissed her so sensually she felt she was on fire. A large part of her was ready to twist her fist in his pants and tug them out of the way, do the same with her own, and have him right there on the public beach.

And it was that momentary bit of madness that finally brought her crashing down to Earth.

"Mmm. Nnn-no, Chuck," she pulled her lips from his kiss and took a few calming breaths. It was difficult, considering she felt what she coveted most, so hard and ready between her legs, where she wanted him most. "Chuck, wait," she panted. "We can't. Not here."

"Why not?"

God, his voice was dripping with genuine desperation. She felt absolutely insane, and extremely flattered that she could make a man's voice do that. Chuck Bartowski had no shame. And neither did she.

But they couldn't do this.

"We have to go back. We're almost there. Come on."

Chuck didn't whine. He didn't complain.

Instead, he scrambled up to his feet and reached down to hoist her up in a feat of strength that both impressed her and turned her on even more.

And then as if of one mind, they both sprinted across the sand. It was only 100 yards or so to the stairs that would bring them to the back of their hotel. The French flag flew proudly from a pole that jutted out from the roof of the building, a beacon calling them in.

Though there was another beacon Sarah felt acutely inside of her, telling her they needed to get behind closed doors as soon as possible. He reached the stairs before she did and stepped aside to allow her to go up first. His hand on her back practically set fire to her, spreading glorious tingles all throughout her body, and she let out a breath as she reached the top of the staircase, wondering what in the hell caused that sort of reaction with _this_ man in particular, when she'd never felt anything like this before. Ever. Not with anyone else.

She slowed down significantly as they reached the path that wrapped around the pool area, grabbing Chuck's arm and slowing him down next to her. He gave her a desperate look and she widened her eyes at him, her lips set a flat line.

Chuck got the message, letting out an impatient huff, but nodding. It would look a little obvious if they were to race through the hotel for the elevator. And even though Sarah didn't tend to care what people thought of her, she didn't want to cause a scene. Her existence revolved around blending in, going as unnoticed as possible. Which isn't always easy when you're a tall, statuesque blonde with intense blue eyes.

So they walked as calmly as they could into the elevator. And Sarah wanted so badly to both push Chuck further away and pull him in even closer; she could feel the heat of his body as he walked behind her.

She wanted to laugh, but knew he'd be embarrassed. It was obvious (only to her, she was sure) that he was walking behind her, angled a certain way to keep anyone who passed from noticing his erection.

And when the elevator doors slid shut, she wasn't laughing anymore. No sooner had the doors made that soft sealing sound than Chuck closed the distance between them and kissed her again. She staggered at the intensity of his kiss and her back crashed into the wall of the elevator. She didn't care. All she cared about was kissing him back, giving him whatever she could.

The kissed through the ding, hands under clothes. And she felt the sand on his body, under her fingers. His fingers ground over the sand on her own body, scratching her in a way that was surprisingly scintillating.

And they kept kissing even as the doors slid open with a hiss.

Sarah tilted her head back to look at the open doors, meaning to pull away from him, but his lips latched onto her neck, sucking on the crook of her shoulder.

"Chuck…we're on your floor," she gasped. She thought. That was the button she'd pressed, right?

He kept kissing her, nibbling her skin, his fists twisting so deliciously in her shirt.

"Chuck…the faster we get in your room…"

That did it. He stepped back from her as though she'd burned him, letting out a brusque puff of air through pursed lips, and then he nodded. She grabbed his hand and yanked him into the hallway.

They ran again, tugging one another around corners, past the others rooms and suites, until they ended up at his door.

Chuck dug in the pocket of his shorts and produced his room key. But his hands were shaking enough that it took him a few tries to get the damn thing in the slot.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry," she urged him, practically dancing where she stood in impatience.

The green light flashed and the little mechanic click and beep sounded, and they burst into his suite. Only a sliver of red existed on the horizon outside of the glass doors to Chuck's balcony. It was enough light for them to see where they were going despite not having turned on any lights.

Chuck dragged her halfway to the bedroom before Sarah pulled back. "Wait. We're gonna get sand all over your bed."

"Good point," he said quickly.

Using his momentum from her having given his arm a hard tug, he spun back and crashed into her, kissing her again. Her lips were practically numb from all of the kissing, her face muscles almost aching from it, but she kissed him back with vigor. She didn't know where she was going or what was happening until she felt her back pressed into the door they'd just shut behind them.

Chuck grabbed the hem of her shirt in his fists and tugged it up. He pulled out of the kiss just long enough for them to work together to get her shirt off. And then they came together again.

Something was happening between them, something wild, untamed. She couldn't control herself. She didn't even have the mind to know what it was that she wanted, just that she wanted more. Everything. All of him.

She slid her fingers under the waistbands of her shorts and panties and shoved both down, hurriedly stepping out of them and kicking her shoes and socks off.

His hand found her sex immediately, his fingers sliding against her, stroking her wetness, feeling her desire for himself. She whimpered and shut her eyes tightly, breathing through her nose, reaching up to slam her hand against the door by her head.

"Chuck, please," she begged in a whisper. "Now. Please."

She'd never begged for anything. And here she was, the need she felt for him making her crazy.

Chuck kissed her lips, softly, with a warmth that curled her toes against the cool floor of his suite. His hands rested on her hips as he pulled back. There was a moment's indecision in his amber eyes swirling with purple; she didn't understand why. But then he clenched his jaw and turned her around to face the door.

She was only confused for a moment, and then realization hit her and absolute fire roared through her limbs. Only the faintest rustling of clothing moving out of the way could be heard behind her and then Chuck's chest pressed against her back, his shirt bunched between their bodies, and his cock was pressed to her entrance.

With one hand on her lower stomach and the other holding her hip, he thrust himself inside of her, burying his cock with a groan of desire against her hair damp with sweat and probably caked in sand.

"Oh God," she gasped.

He stepped forward and literally pinned her against the door so that she was propped only on the very tips of her toes. And then he began thrusting in earnest, his strangled breaths fluttering at her hair by her ear, soft whimpers of her name making everything feel that much better.

The cool wood of the door against her overheated cheek made her eyelids flutter and she whimpered as Chuck's arm wound around her chest and pulled her back flush against his chest. He bounced himself up into her, his free hand dragging over her thigh desperately,

"Ohh Sarahhh," he groaned. And then he whimpered her name again, going even faster, turning his face to bury himself in her hair.

Sarah dug her fingers into Chuck's wrist as he clutched her to him, and braced her other hand against the wall, crying out in pleasure, feeling his hardness grind against her g-spot as he tugged her down into his quick thrust.

"There!" she gasped out, throwing her head back to rest it on his shoulder. She cursed loudly as he did it again, spots dancing across her vision. "Almost," she panted. "Oh yes! Yes, almost!"

The orgasm that seemed to be building slowly instead crashed over her like an avalanche, making her legs quiver, her toes that were holding her up giving out. But she didn't topple to the floor like she'd feared she might, because Chuck held her up securely in his embrace. As she breathed raggedly, whimpering his name, pressing her forehead to the cold wood with a massive grin of satisfaction on her face, she felt Chuck start to step back. But she held fast, reaching back with both arms to keep him there.

It was a wordless invitation, her desire for him not yet sated, and she could feel how hard he still was inside of her. He rocked into her again, obviously accepting her wordless invitation.

He groaned, tucking his hand under her sports bra and blanketing her breast with his large hand. He massaged her in time with his thrusts, then pinched her nipple between his fingers.

It didn't take long at all for Chuck's body to tense up against hers, and with a breathy whimper of her name in her ear, she felt his warm seed spill inside of her. As she gyrated back into him, she felt his fingers tuck between her legs and start to rub her clit in quick, hard circles.

"Nng! Oh God, Chuck!"

She clenched herself and thrusted into his hand, a second climax spilling over her as he finished emptying himself inside of her.

They stood like that for a little over a minute, and she had a feeling he was just as stunned as she was. His hand on her hip was feeling her, almost as if making sure she was real. It was adorable.

This was _insane_.

This was _amazing_.

He finally stepped back from her, hands on her waist as though to make sure she didn't just topple to the ground. She didn't, and as she turned to face him, he finally took his hands away and pulled his boxers and pants back in place.

She was covered in sweat and sand, unbelievably satisfied…and so totally overwhelmed that her head was positively buzzing. Or maybe that was the whole back to back orgasms thing.

What she needed was to put a door between them before she jumped him again. But she didn't want to put too many doors between them, so she shrugged a shoulder cutely and gestured towards his bathroom. "You mind if I use your shower?"

Chuck blinked, took a deep breath, and shook his head. "No. No! I mean, of course not. Please. Please do."

"Thanks. I'm just all dirty." She blushed like an idiot because he turned redder than a tomato. And damn her for being such a dweeb. She just hadn't meant it that way, so when he took it that way, it left her all…discombobulated.

She fled the scene as calmly as possible, got rid of her sports bra, and stepped into his shower, leaving the door shut between them.

Jesus Christ, how did she leave herself so open and vulnerable to this man every damn time? How did she lose control so easily? And how did he manage to exceed any and all of her expectations so consistently?

This was dangerous.

She didn't care.

She should care.

And she let out a soft laugh as she told that voice inside of her to shut the hell up. No man had ever touched her like that. No man had ever taken her like that, either. She'd had rough'n'tumble sex before, the kind of sex that was frenzied, quick, hot. It was good.

But no man had ever… _claimed_ her. And she didn't mean that in a possessive way. He'd just taken over every last one of her senses, disconnected her from everything but him. As stupidly cheesy as it was, he'd rocked her world onto its head and then he'd rocked it back upright again.

It was madness.

And it was glorious.

* * *

Thank you, everyone! Stick around. More to come.

Please review!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	13. That Glorious Y Chromosome

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** The story progresses! Thanks to everyone sticking around. Much more to come after this. Much much more.

Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

She was grinning like a freaking idiot by the time she stepped out of the shower and grabbed the extra towel folded on the rack. She dried off quickly then rubbed her hair until it was as dry as possible, before she tied the towel back around her body again. She didn't have anything to wear, she'd realized belatedly. That was a problem.

But she left the bathroom anyways, still running her fingers through her hair with one hand and holding the knot in the towel with the other.

As she padded out into the main room, she found him standing out on the balcony, the door wide open, letting the cool sea breeze in.

She halted at the door and leaned against it, careful not to be too out in the open, considering she was in nothing but a towel. She watched Chuck quietly, taking him in, the breeze whipping at his curls. She felt so at peace. Like everything in the world was exactly the way it should be, where it should be. Like _she_ was exactly where she was supposed to be.

And then Chuck turned and looked at her. He immediately cast his eyes down at her standing there in a towel, and then he stood up and rushed towards her, gently guiding her back into the room and twisting the shutters closed. She resisted the urge to laugh at him for it. It was just so cute.

But there was something else in his blush. He seemed tentative. Nervous. Embarrassed, even. "I, um…sorry. There were…I mean, people were out there and I didn't want you to…"

Chuck cleared his throat and laughed at himself, rubbing the back of his head.

"I'm actually going to hop in the—in the shower. Oh. You need…something to wear, huh? Yeah. I'll get that first. Then I'll take my—Follow me." He led her into the bedroom and grabbed a T-shirt out of the drawer, handing it to her. Then he went into another drawer and gave her a pair of boxers, as well. "You might have to roll them a little. But um…my hips are super narrow for a dude so maybe you'll be okay." He blanched. "Not that there's—Obviously you have really nice hips, they're not particularly wide. I didn't mean that. I've just got freakishly narrow…Jesus. I'm gonna take a shower."

She watched him back towards the shower. "Thanks for the clothes."

"Yeah. Um…" He ran his hands down his shirt. "Please don't go yet? I ordered us dinner."

Sarah tilted her head and gave him a bit of a confused look. "I'll be here."

He disappeared into the shower and she dropped her towel, putting the clothes he'd let her borrow on, wondering what in the hell was up with him all of a sudden.

The food arrived halfway through his shower and she felt bad about it, but she found Chuck's wallet in the nightstand next to his bed and tipped the waiter with it.

Chuck finally walked into the room as she was pouring the five year old bottle of red wine he'd ordered them with their dinner. His wine choice really cemented the fact that he had more money than the average person. How much, she still didn't know. And it wasn't her business to know anyway, whether she was curious or not.

He was quiet as he stood off to the side, watching her pour. And as she stood with both glasses in her hand, ready to give him one, she saw the strained look on his face. Something was off with him. And she needed to get to the bottom of it for her own peace of mind, if nothing else.

But she didn't have to say anything. Instead she just gave him a look—the one that said 'Okay, cut it out and just tell me what's wrong'. He read it well. Because he let out a long sigh and winced.

"Listen, Sarah. I'm sorry if I was…" Chuck cleared his throat and gestured towards the door he'd had her pinned against a little over a half hour earlier. She turned to glance at the door and just barely withheld the urge to grin wickedly. It didn't help that he had yet to put on a shirt. His skin was so tan and glistening from the steam in the bathroom. "It just…" He cleared his throat again. "God, there's just something about you, Sarah. It makes me feel things—physically—that I swear to God I've _never_ felt before. I mean, you make me _do_ things I've never…" His features became pinched as he searched for the right words, and she let him, even as she thought she knew what he was trying to say. "Gah, did I overdo it? You can tell me if I did."

Sarah was torn.

Torn between wanting to laugh at him and wanting to kiss him.

"Did I…" She bit her lip and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "…do anything to make you think I wasn't completely into it? Enjoying it? Because if I did, I didn't mean to. I really didn't mean to."

Chuck blinked.

"Trust me, Chuck. You have _nothing_ to apologize to me for." And just for good measure, the assassin flashed the video game mogul a very satisfied, cheeky grin. He blushed, even as he met her grin with one of his own.

"Oh. Uh. Good." Chuck laughed at himself and shook his head, somehow managing to endear himself to her even more. "Before I embarrass us both further, I think we should sit down and eat. But first, let me down a couple glasses of wine."

She laughed and handed him his glass.

—

"Interesting concept," Sarah said, scrolling through the Wikipedia article about _Y: The Last Man_. "But I don't know if I'd be able to read an entire series on it. Or…since it's a comic book, I guess…look at pictures more than read."

"Excuse me," Chuck said from the door as he pushed the cart with the remainder of their feast out into the hallway. "But it's still reading. There are words."

"Yeah, but…come on…it's mostly pictures. I'm not saying that's a good or bad thing!" she rushed on, holding up her free hand placatingly. "Just…it's mostly pictures."

"Okay, let's push that whole thing to the side for a second," Chuck said, shutting the door and walking back to the couch where Sarah was curled up, looking at her phone. "Why don't you think you can read a whole series on it?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug, looking up at him as he plopped onto the couch a few feet away. "It seems like the whole thing is about a planet full of women who either want to kill him or shag him. It's like…a teenage boy's wildest fantasy come true."

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "That's a very simplistic take on the entire concept. But I am not going to judge you since all you have is what I assume is a Wikipedia article pulled up on your phone. You aren't going to get the full picture unless you read it."

"But, like, why does every man die except Yorick and his monkey. That makes no sense."

"The Y chromosome."

"But they have the Y chromosome, too."

"They never really say for sure what it is."

"Probably because they don't know themselves. That's too hard, coming up with a reason, so they can go around saying, 'Oh it's a mystery we like our readers to figure out for themselves.' Mmhmmm." She giggled at him as he opened his mouth to say something else, and then reached over to pat his shoulder. "I'm being an asshole now and tearing down your favorite comic book. I'm sorry. It does sound really cool. I just get nervous about dystopian stuff."

"Oh, yeah?" He scooted a little closer and leaned his arm on the back of the couch.

"It's too real. The idea of some plague making everybody into a zombie, or killing everybody…it's just…blegh. Too real."

"It is kind of scary. But if you remember it's fictional, you're okay."

"Weather disaster movies are the worst. Like, floods and earthquakes…"

"Okay, I live in California. So the whole earthquake thing is a big no with me. I don't do the earthquake thing."

She laughed, and then she looked back down at her phone, going through the summary of the plot. "Wait, she dies?!"

"What?! What are you doing?! Are you reading the plot summary?!" He reached out to try to take her phone but she pulled out of reach.

"That's so fucked up! They build this great strong character and just before they get together she—"

"What is wrong with you?!" he cried out, even as he laughed, trying to grab her phone still. She laughed, squealing as he climbed on her. He finally was able to pry the phone from her fingers, turning it off and setting it on the coffee table where she couldn't reach it. "You aren't supposed to read the whole plot on Wikipedia before you read the novels! Come on, Sarah!"

"I told you I'm probably not gonna read it anyway."

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Fine. You're less of a nerd than I thought."

"I told you." She pursed her lips and shifted her legs so that they were framing his hips, lifting them to wrap them around his body and giving him a quick tug so that more of his weight was pressing into her. "That make you like me a little less?"

He met her pout with a furrowed brow that very clearly said "What are you smoking?" and then he shook his head. "Sarah." He sighed, clearly unable to find words, and then he shook his head again. "Let's just leave it at 'no' because I don't even know where to begin with a different answer."

Sarah giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I can still kick your ass at video games if you want me to."

"I'm not even going to lie, I would _love_ that."

"Oh, yeah?" She giggled again as he swept in to peck her on the lips. "Because you seemed a little miffed when I killed you five times in a row during Wallace-16 the other day."

He kissed her again. "Unfairly."

"How was it unfair?" she asked, nibbling on his chin, feeling the way he shivered above her.

"Right when I came around the corner, you reached over and sexually assaulted me."

Sarah burst into laughter, her head falling back against the couch. "I _sexually assaulted_ you? Oh my God!"

"You reached over and grabbed me. Not just…my leg or something. Like wrapped your fingers around my junk over my boxers and squeezed. So yeah, of course I died. I was grossly distracted."

She laughed evilly and craned her neck to kiss his jaw, leaned around to capture his earlobe between her teeth. "Grossly? Because I seem to remember you liking it."

"You're a cheater cheater pumpkin eater."

"I won, didn't I?"

His hand slid over her thigh and dragged under his T-shirt that she wore, his fingers cool against her warm skin. She hissed at the feel of it, enjoying it in spite of everything. "Cheaters never prosper."

"Mmmm I don't know about that. I feel like I did prosper. Greatly."

"Okay, fine. Next time we play video games, we'll see who wins."

His hand pushed up even further, teasing her ribs with gentle strokes of his fingers, until his knuckles brushed the underside of her breast.

Sarah bit her bottom lip and sighed. And then she saw his eyes flash, and she met him halfway, kissing him slowly, enjoying his taste, the feel of him lying on top of her, his weight pressing her down and making her feel so safe and warm. She pulled back just enough to where their lips were barely brushing, noses nuzzling. "Even now…" She pecked his lips. "…I prosper."

He chuckled, his chest bouncing against hers.

All her life, she'd been careful to avoid addiction. Alcohol, smoking, drugs…she'd buried herself in the CIA. And before the CIA, it had been violin, languages, books, anything that kept her from being like her dad and his friends. She worked hard to make sure nothing had control over her. Because that was what addiction was, wasn't it? When you lost control.

For so long she had never needed anything or anyone.

And all of that had come crashing down when she met Chuck.

Because she needed him now. She needed him ten times over.

Of course it was physical. Really great sex was like a drug. She hadn't been careful. She'd gotten too much too fast, and now she might be a little hooked.

Or a lot hooked.

He just had this way of touching her. And he was so talented with his lips, as he tasted her neck. She was obsessed with his fascination with her neck. Like he was magnetically drawn to it whenever they were in an intimate situation like this.

She thought she could do it…back away from all of this, leave it behind. She thought she could drop the sensations he brought her, forget the sound of his whimper in her ear.

As addicted as she was, she could quit. She was sure she could.

So she dragged her hands down his back, pulled his shirt up, and dug her fingernails into his skin just above the waistline of his boxers. He let out a whimpering sigh and thrust into her.

Sarah's eyes rolled back and she grinned wildly, turning her head to catch his lips in a sensual kiss.

Maybe she was addicted because she suddenly felt visible.

That had to be it.

She wasn't acting here. Not with Chuck. She wasn't playing a role. She wasn't trying to blend into the crowd. She was just being…real. As real as she knew how to be, at least.

She was visible. To him. He saw her.

It was startling.

So startling that she strove to ignore it for now, instead burying herself in his touch, his kiss, the way she felt him hardening between her legs where he was pushed against her.

Chuck shifted, turning them both so that he was wedged between her and the couch back. And then he giggled into her kiss as she shoved her hand down to squeeze his backside boldly. Sarah threw her weight until he slid down to lie flat on his back with her on top of him.

And then he leaned up and cupped her head in one hand, his lips wreaking havoc on her senses. When his fingers twisted wantonly in her hair, she moaned and moved her hand, straddling him properly so that she could reach down the front of his boxers.

His hips jolted as she felt him under her palm, and she curled her fingers around him and released his cock from their confines, pushed the waistband down and out of the way.

He groaned and held onto her hips, letting his head fall back to the couch with a thump as she pushed herself against his hardness and gyrated a few times.

Her mind refused to quiet, and her body was crying out for the man underneath her, so she listened to her body and willed her mind to shut up.

Sarah lifted herself from his lap to take his length in one hand, stroking him so that his eyes went crossed, and reaching down with her free hand to move the boxers she wore out of the way.

She slowly eased herself down, sinking onto him, pressing her forehead to his temple and exhaling in a whimper. Her mouth reacted without first consulting her brain. "Hnng you feel so good," she gasped out. It still felt so odd to hear herself say things like that. But she went with it. As long as her brain kept quiet.

"Sarah…"

She sat heavily in his lap, wriggled a bit to get into a good position, and then she started to swing her hips back and forth, her strokes long and slow, arching her back. She held onto his shoulders for leverage as she rode him, clenching her jaw, watching him through half closed eyes.

Chuck's head had fallen to the arm of the couch, his eyes had shut, and he breathed rapidly through flared nostrils. He whimpered her name and let his jaw fall open in complete awe.

Nobody'd ever allowed themselves to enjoy what she did to them the way Chuck did. Like they were all just as guarded as she was, just as ready for her to stab them in the back as she was ready for them to. And here was Chuck, his eyes shut, just enjoying, letting her have her way with him, not worried at all about the fact that he'd met her maybe a week earlier, not worried that he knew nothing about her.

He was either stupid or he was the most wonderfully trusting person on the planet. Either way, he was definitely a bit naive. She couldn't fault him for it.

And God, she needed to shut her damn brain up. She was having sex, for goodness sake!

Sarah reach back to brace her hands on his knees, then tilted her torso away from his, jerking her hips back and forth instead of the graceful way she'd been riding him before.

Chuck's eyes snapped open and they fell down to where their bodies met, shrouded in the boxers she still wore.

She strove for more and more and more, reaching, reaching, reaching. She heard a distant buzz and thought maybe it was her approaching orgasm. Maybe she was almost there…

But then Chuck's hands grabbed at her hips and held her tightly to him so that she stopped moving. She sat up straight and grabbed his shoulder, meeting his gaze a bit hazily. "What? What is it?" she panted.

"Your phone is ringing."

"What?"

"Your phone."

She frowned, still trying to get a grasp on her senses, and then she glanced over her shoulder at where Chuck had set her phone. She recognized the nondescript picture she gave him for when he called: a row of snapdragons. He'd had some in a vase the first time she'd gone into his office when she was still a teenager. And she'd always remembered how strange it was to see a man like that with flowers in his office.

"You gonna answer?" he asked, breathless. She didn't say anything, blinking at the phone. "You can," he added. "S'okay. I don't mind."

"It's just my boss," she said, not realizing what she'd just told him. She had too many other things going on.

All of which she was determined to ignore. Except for him.

Except for Chuck.

"What if it's importan—?"

She spun back to him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm busy."

"Oh." The wide-eyed look of shock melted into awe, and then that melted even further into sheer pleasure as she started to buck into his lap enthusiastically. She grabbed his head in her hands and pressed her chest against his, burying her lips in his hair and for all intents and purposes, going to town on him until she felt him climax beneath her simultaneously with her own finish.

They shook together, shivering, clinging, grasping…panting…

And then they melted into the couch. Chuck turned them over and scooted up her body, draping himself half over her, tucking his face into her neck as she held him to her, ignoring the way his soft curls tickled her nose.

The satisfaction was overwhelming, the sensations still zooming through her limbs, making her feel unstoppable like little else had before. And they stayed that way for long enough that she wondered if Chuck had dozed off.

She was close to falling into that blissful realm between wakefulness and unconsciousness herself when she spoke, quite out of nowhere. "My boss is gonna be pissed I didn't answer the phone. I don't care," she added as an afterthought. "I'm surprised by just how much I don't care."

Chuck didn't move and she thought maybe he _was_ asleep after all, so she kept going. Because, damn it, she had to. She was going to let it out for once in her life instead of swallowing it down and letting it eat at her from the inside.

"I'm on vacation. That doesn't happen often. I don't often get a chance to enjoy myself away from work and…And I've got nothing to say to him until I get back."

She was struck with numbing melancholy then. 'Until I get back' had slid a knife right through her chest. Because once she was _back_ that meant she wasn't here. This would be over. Not just vacation but…whatever this was between her and Chuck. The overwhelming magnetism, the lust, the sweet bliss of how much she liked life when she was around him.

Sarah was stirred from her upsetting thoughts as Chuck turned his face to kiss her collarbone that stuck out from the neck of her T-shirt. "I bet you're really good at what you do."

So he wasn't asleep. He was simply listening to her.

That, too, was very _very_ new. She was always the one who listened. And observed.

She smiled, feeling the bitterness in it. And she was glad his face was nuzzled into her neck where he couldn't see said bitterness. "No point in my being modest about it. I am really good at what I do."

The best, she silently added. And the bitterness increased.

She continued again because he was here, because she knew in her heart of hearts that it wouldn't really matter what she said here. He was harmless. He was listening. She would be gone soon. He would forget about her. And about everything she'd ever said to him.

"I just feel so torn sometimes," she said quietly. "It's like…they don't need any of their other employees as much as they need me. And at the same time it's like I—I feel like I work in the shadows. Like they keep me in the shadows on purpose. Like…" She swallowed thickly, knowing he wouldn't take it as literally as she meant it, but still feeling uncomfortable saying it. "Like I'm their secret weapon."

Chuck was silent for a moment and then he moved, propping himself up over her, his head in his palm, his other hand curling around her opposite hip. She tried her best to keep her heart rate down. She was giving him a lot. She really didn't mean to give him this much. But he thought she was talking about her job as a translator. He'd never imagine in his wildest dreams that she was an assassin with the CIA. Nobody would guess that. If she told him that straight to his face, he'd probably chuckle and think she was teasing.

"You don't get much acknowledgement from the brass, huh?"

Sarah knew he didn't mean brass literally. He wasn't using it in the military sense that it was meant to be used in. He was simply being cute. But it still left her a little unsettled at how accurate his words were.

She shrugged. "I don't need them to pat me on the back. I don't need awards or a placard on an office wall that says 'Employee of the Month' or anything like that. That's not how I roll," she added to make him smile. It had it's desired effect and something deep inside of her fluttered.

He paused, his thumb drawing distracting circles on her hip bone. For the first time, she recognized that he had a certain face he made when he was thinking. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed. And she could almost see the gears inside of his head cranking. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. She'd seen the face before. And she decided she really liked that face a lot.

"You…" He paused again. "You feel like they're taking advantage of you. Like they take your work and your loyalty for granted." He sighed and moved a little closer, reaching up to push a bit of hair from her face. "They expect you to be there. They expect you to kick ass. And people who aren't as good as what you do get a blue ribbon just for showing up."

She pulled her face back a bit and narrowed her eyes. Because he'd hit the nail on the head. Bullseye. "I guess so. Kind of specific, though. Are you speaking from experience?"

He smiled. "No, not me. Ellie went through something like that at the hospital she was at before the one she's at now. She needed extra shifts, so whenever they called to ask if she could take a shift, she showed up. But then it got to the point where they took her for granted. She'd say no and they'd treat her like shit for it, even though she wasn't obligated."

"That's gross," she said.

"Yeah. S'why she's not there anymore."

"Good for her."

He smiled again and stroked the side of her face with the backs of his fingers. It was such a familiar, intimate thing for him to do and she fought to keep herself from seizing up. "I'm sorry you're being treated that way, Sarah. You deserve better."

And then Chuck curled his hand around hers and lifted both to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. This was also incredibly familiar, and oh so intimate.

It made her want to run in the other direction—mostly because it felt so good, because a massive part of her wanted him to keep doing things like that.

She couldn't run. Not now. She wouldn't.

So instead, she let her body take control again.

"Chuck?"

"Hm."

"Will you do something for me?"

His mouth stretched into a small, crooked smile. "Of course."

She wrapped her hand around his bicep that was surrounding her body and squeezed. "Will you take me to your bed and make me forget about all of this bullshit with my work?" She let out a sigh. "Everything." She paused. "If only for awhile."

It wasn't anything she'd ever asked from anyone before. She'd never sought comfort or even distraction from another person—she'd especially never verbalized that need.

But Chuck did exactly what she needed him to do in that moment.

He brought his hand up to his forehead and saluted her like a huge dork, a big ol' grin on his handsome face. And then he less-than-gracefully pushed his boxers off, got rid of his shirt, and did the same with what she was wearing.

She laughed at him, yelping when he tugged her to sit up and stripped her of his T-shirt. When they were both buck naked, he hoisted her into his arms and grandly stepped around the couch, marching to the bedroom of the suite like a soldier doing his duty.

Sarah let her glee spill out of her, so glad he'd made a game of it instead of making her feel vulnerable and raw. It was perfect.

He was perfect.

And the moment he climbed under the covers of his bed beside her, they joined. There was no foreplay, no kissing and touching, no whispered words of encouragement or desire.

Chuck slung her left leg over his arm and bent it back as he moved inside of her, panting into her hair, groaning. Sarah clung with everything in her, memorizing every sensation, from the hair on his chest gliding over her hard nipples, to the way he felt so hard and hot inside of her, the way his finding her g-spot made her whole body feel that explosion of tingles that happened in your arm when you hit your funny bone. The churning of his back muscles under her fingers that grappled for some part of him that she could hold onto. The softness of his hair between her fingers as she finally _did_ find something she could hold onto.

He did what she asked him to do.

She forgot about everything but him. The CIA, her future, her past…everything faded away and all there was left was this.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Harder! Please, harder!"

Chuck came in at a different angle, shifting his body over hers, bending her leg back even further and thrusting his other arm under her shoulders. He drove into her harder and she let out a soft scream, reaching up to smash her fist into the headboard and shutting her eyes tight.

He groaned loudly and quickened his pace, not stopping until another climax spilled over her. But she pulled him in tightly and told him to keep going, rocking herself up into his thrusts this time.

They continued for a long time, relentless, rolling to and fro on the bed, the sheets and duvet eventually ending up on the floor, until finally Chuck was asleep facedown on his bed, his cheek smushed into the pillow.

She studied his face in the darkness and smiled a little, and then she finally got up, certain she'd worn him out.

It was just that she couldn't ignore the phone any longer. Graham was absolutely going to be pissed off that she didn't answer, nor did she call him back. And she wasn't going to now.

But as she picked up the phone and leaned against the arm of the couch, still completely naked, she saw he'd left a voicemail. She said a silent prayer as she lifted the phone to her ear to listen to it.

"Jenny, it's George," Langston Graham's voice said in the message. He was using names she'd recognize but no one else would, in case she'd been compromised and someone had her burner. They wouldn't be able to pin her to the CIA this way. "I'm sure you must be upset, being sidelined, suspended for the last week. I know you know what's best for you—you always have known what's best for you. And that means you won't disappear, will you? If this is you going off-grid, Jenny…" He warned in a clipped voice. "…It isn't going to be easy for you. Project notes were sent to your work email," he added. "If you don't show up for the project on Monday, you'll be considered…what is it the military call it? AWOL?" There was a loud click and the message ended.

She was right. He was pissed that she didn't answer. And she heard something else in his voice. Was it worry? Was he worried for her if she'd gone AWOL? Or was he worried about what that might mean for him with his superiors? Probably the latter.

He wouldn't expect her to call back. He just wanted her to show up on Monday.

And she would. She was going to show up on Monday. Her instructions for where to go to meet her contact were apparently sitting in her email now.

Sarah listened to the message again, listening carefully to his tone. Had she ever ignored his call before when she wasn't specifically in the middle of a mission and couldn't talk due to her surroundings? She didn't think she had. No wonder he was fretting about whether or not she went AWOL. But she didn't much appreciate the threat.

Anyways, if she had gone AWOL, she would've ditched this phone by now. He knew that. And maybe he had the threat in there in case she still had the phone, listened to the message, and was considering disappearing off the grid.

She listened one last time and as she lowered her phone to her side, mixed emotions broiling in her chest, she heard Chuck's feet shuffle against the floor behind her. She turned to see him standing in the doorway. He must've discovered she wasn't in bed and pulled on another pair of boxers to come out and investigate. And here she was totally naked, with nothing but a phone in hand.

Chuck blinked sleepily, his eyes quickly running down her body, before he pasted them blatantly to her face again. "Sorry I fell asleep."

"No, it's okay. We, uh, tired each other out." She blushed and walked to the couch, peeking underneath to find the boxers she'd borrowed. "Mind if I…?"

"Oh! No. Of course not."

"Thanks." She slid them on, then pulled the T-shirt on as well.

"Was that your boss? I mean, did he leave a message? He mad at you?" He finished his question with a wide yawn.

"Uh, yeah. But I can handle it." She shrugged and started gathering her running clothes from where she'd left them on the floor.

"I'm sure you can."

That earned him a smile. When she stood up straight, everything in hand, he walked into the room a bit further.

"You going back to your room?"

"Yeah. I'm exhausted." She smoothed a hand down her front. "You don't mind if I return these to you later?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I don't mind. If we were in college, this might be kind of like a walk of shame."

Sarah closed the distance between them with a soft giggle, then moved in to kiss his lips slowly. "Except that I'm not ashamed."

He hummed and gave her a derpy closed-mouth smile. "Mmm you should be."

With one last quick giggle and a grin, she pecked him on the lips and pat his chest, before walking out of his suite with a skip in her step.

It took a little longer to get back to her room because she took the stairs. She wasn't as exhausted as she told Chuck she was. But she wanted to be alone.

She filled the tub in her bathroom and slid into it, a few minutes later, letting her body and her thoughts soak for a little while.

Graham's voice was ringing in her ears. The way it'd sounded so sharp, so brittle. There was a lot at stake. He knew it. And maybe he wasn't quite as confident anymore in what her decision might be come Monday. She didn't even know, did she? All she knew was that she had to be there.

If she showed up on Monday and chose not to continue with the CIA, that would be that. But if she didn't meet her contact in two days, she would be chased down like she was a criminal. The CIA didn't take AWOL quite as well as the military did. And the military didn't treat AWOL soldiers all that well.

And like every decision she'd ever made in her life, she had to make this one alone.

When the courts gave her the decision between her mother and father, she'd been too young for that kind of responsibility. But she'd done it. For better or for worse.

She'd have to choose on her own again this time. The CIA, or a life on her own. The worst part was that there was no guarantee that life would be as normal as she pictured it. An apartment with her things, being stationary, having a job at a desk…

God, could she even do that? Could she sit at a desk for 9 hours a day? She wasn't sure she could. In fact, she pretty much knew she couldn't. But there were other jobs, right? The job she told Chuck she had wasn't the type of job that had a person sitting at a desk all day. She would get to travel, meet people.

But she would need a degree, a resume. Neither of which she had. And again, she thought about the degree she _did_ have, but under a different name. If she used that name, she would have to abandon Sarah Walker.

She liked Sarah Walker.

She liked being Sarah Walker.

She felt at home as Sarah Walker.

When she crawled into bed an hour later, her mind was no more made up than it had been days earlier. It didn't matter how much time she spent thinking about it, or how much time she spent distracting herself in the arms of a warm and charming man with undeniable talent in the bedroom.

Two more days. Three more nights.

She didn't even look at the email. She'd do that , she stared at her ceiling until she couldn't stand the sight anymore, and she threw her duvet over her head.

One thing she didn't regret, even though she knew she probably should, was letting off her chest some of what she'd been bottling up inside of her for…years, probably. Chuck didn't know where she actually worked, or what she actually did. But he stayed there and listened to her tell him why she was dissatisfied with her job. He understood. He reassured her.

She couldn't remember the last time something had normalized her existence quite like hearing Chuck talk about how his sister's old hospital had treated her. She'd been undervalued in spite of her hard work. They'd taken her for granted. They'd grown to expect more out of her than anyone else, taking advantage of her loyalty.

That was something normal people with normal jobs experienced from their employers.

Sarah had something in common with a regular woman. Someone who didn't travel the globe stalking criminals, taking out tyrants with bullets or poison.

It felt good talking to Chuck. It felt good having someone listen to her without interrupting, without telling her what to do. He hadn't even given advice. He'd just listened, soaked it in, let her get it out, and then he'd made her feel good.

The way he'd kissed her hand. How genuinely positive he was that she deserved a better lot than what she was given.

If only he knew the truth. Maybe he'd change his mind about what she did and didn't deserve. That thought made her feel a little ill.

But Chuck did know some of the truth. She had been more herself this past week with him than she had been ever in her life. Except perhaps when she was a child. She'd let her mask fall. She'd let him see…so much. She'd told him more than she'd ever told anyone.

He knew her true self. Beneath the job. Beneath the CIA. Beneath the Ice Queen. He saw _her_.

And what he saw made him say that. Made him say that she deserved better.

And in that moment, as she threw her duvet back off of her head and blinked away the beginning of tears, his words, the way he said them…It was everything to her.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Don't go anywhere!

And please review! Thank you!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	14. Late Breakfasts and Woodland Rainstorms

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** I've been slow updating, but only because I'm trying to build a lead in the actual writing part. If I have a few chapters that need editing, I feel more comfortable, so I'm a little ahead now. Hopefully once I really get going, I can update faster. Thanks for still being here, old readers. And to new readers, welcome! Hope you enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

Sleeping in.

That was something she valued above almost everything. Survival might've been the only thing she valued more, for obvious reasons.

It just felt so good to feel the sun's rays stretch across the room and over her body that was tangled in the sheets. She'd learned very early to appreciate missions when she had a bed, especially a bed as comfortable as this one. She'd learned to take advantage of missions when she could sleep for as long as possible, because there were too many missions when she didn't get a bed to sleep on. She'd slept in dirt too many times to count. Alleyways. Rooftops. In cars, in trees, and unfortunately in a trunk once. That last one had been involuntary.

And it was rare when her sleep extended past an hour or two sitting up in a bus or train.

So she slept in when she could.

And she could here.

But that wouldn't last much longer.

Maybe.

Sarah groaned and pushed her hands through her hair, tugging a bit to punish herself, and then roughly tossing herself from her back onto her stomach and punching her pillow for good measure. She was so sick of this going back and forth. She was sick of not knowing what to do.

She usually had more control over herself, over her decisions. But maybe that was because she'd always had a path laid out in front of her once she joined the CIA. A mission had set instructions from her superiors. She planned. She executed the plan. And she moved onto the next mission and did the same thing. That was how things would be with the CIA for as long as they would have her. It was easy to have control in a life like that. There were no surprises, no hard decisions outside of things that came up during missions.

That wasn't the case anymore.

Because this was a massive decision. A life-changing decision. One that would affect the trajectory of her existence from here on out.

And she was at such a loss.

Because she'd experienced so much in Nice. Strange what had stemmed from her stealing a cell phone from a tourist.

The oddity of life.

The beauty of it, she should probably say. Because she'd recently started seeing that there was beauty in life. Not in survival, no, but in life. That was even before Chuck nearly got his ass kicked by a surfer. Months before. Maybe even a year before.

But it was this mission in Nice and subsequent suspension that really made her question what she wanted out of life, besides just … to live.

And while Chuck wasn't the only reason this decision was gnawing at her so intensely, he was absolutely part of it. Even if she left the CIA, there was no guarantee that whatever this was between them would continue. It was a fling, a romance, complete with amazing sex…but she wasn't fool enough to believe she was living in some sort of romance novel fantasy with soul mates and other bullshit like that.

This thing with Chuck would end, but at least she'd know she could go somewhere else, some other beautiful place in the world, and meet more people. People like Chuck. People different from Chuck. But normal people, for God's sake. And she wouldn't have to lie to them, manipulate them, or kill them.

Then she'd remember just how many people she'd already killed. She'd see their faces. She'd remember the people who cared about them even if they were terrible tyrants, criminals, or murderers themselves. It wasn't regret, really, or even remorse. She was sure most of the people she'd killed over the last decade deserved to be dead. She was sure what she'd done for the CIA had saved lives, maybe hundreds or even hundreds of thousands.

But that didn't make the blood on her hands go away. She didn't deserve to be free of that burden. She'd killed people. Whether it was for the CIA or not, she'd done it. And there was no way she'd let herself off the hook for those deaths.

And so she'd end up on the other side of the decision. Because at least the CIA wouldn't be sullied by her presence. They accepted her, warts and all. In fact, the CIA embraced the warts gladly, even preferred her with her warts. The death toll at the hands of their Ice Queen meant their gamble with the con artist's desperate teenage daughter paid off all those years ago.

And then Sarah would be full of spite. Bitter that the CIA saw her that way, that Graham saw her that way. And she'd go back on the other side of the decision again. Because she wasn't going to let them fuck around with her like that.

And then she'd find herself with Chuck, she'd feel that tickle in her chest that happened whenever she laughed…and she'd swing back to wanting to leave the CIA.

Part of her knew that the smart thing was to keep her distance from Chuck. It would at least be a way for her to make her decision without a walking, talking conflict of interest around.

Sarah finally pushed herself to sit up and ran her hands down her face. At least she'd slept in after a late night that was fun, even if there had been a dark cloud hovering over her the entire time.

She glanced at the clock and saw it was after 9. She was hungry. She should go get herself breakfast, she mused. Or maybe order room service, even if that meant it would take a little longer.

And just as she resigned herself to lying back down and shutting her eyes again out of pure laziness (because she could!), a knock sounded on the door.

Sarah shot right out of bed and frowned. It was a brisk knock, heavy handed. And it was totally different from the knock she'd gotten used to. A playful staccato knock that always signaled Chuck's arrival.

Her Smith & Wesson was in her hand immediately, pre-loaded for situations like this. She crept out of her bedroom into the main room of the suite and moved to the door. She reached out and turned the extra lock slowly, painstakingly, before she undid the chain, and finally pushed down on the door handle. She didn't open the door wide, instead stepping back and waiting for whomever it was to push it open themselves and enter.

She'd be ready for them, watching from where she stood at the hinges of the door, gun pointed.

"Fffwuhff?"

 _Shit_.

She knew the voice as the door thumped open. And now she was standing here with a gun. It would freak him out so bad. She quickly stuffed her piece down the back of her panties and pulled her cami over the rest of it. It was a nonsensical action, considering there'd still be a gun-shaped bulge under her clothes but…

Chuck finally stepped into view and she hurriedly opened the door wider for him.

"Chuck! What're you doing h—I mean, hi."

He had two large bags, one under each arm, and a cardboard drink holder wedged between his teeth, two short coffees in the slots. "Hhhllllnnff."

Sarah reached over and took the tray out from his teeth. He worked his jaw, wincing. "In hindsight, two trips might've been smarter, but I never said I was a genius."

"What's this?" she asked, her heart racing still. Adrenaline was coursing through her. The cool metal of the gun was pressed against the now overheated skin of her lower back.

"Uh…" He stood up a little straighter and stepped away from the door so that she could close it. Then he looked down at the bags shoved under his arms. She realized now why his knock was so different. He'd had to use his foot instead of his hand. "I'm starting to realize that it's kind of…erm…presumptuous. But I bought breakfast and thought maybe…"

"Presumptuous?" she asked, purposefully angling her body so that he couldn't see the gun when he moved further into her suite.

"Well, I mean…just showing up out of the blue."

"Hey, I showed up out of the blue to make you go for a run with me. You showed up out of the blue with breakfast. I think you win." She smirked at him as he chuckled, looking a bit more appeased now.

How was she going to get rid of the gun without him seeing? She couldn't do this all morning. Maybe she could get rid of _him_. Maybe she could tell him she had to shower. _Sorry, can you come back in five minutes so that I can shower?_ No, no. That wouldn't work. He didn't have to leave her entire suite for her to shower. He'd seen her naked enough times now that it would be weird if he didn't stay while she showered.

"I just thought…Well you said you were tired last night." He walked over to the table by the balcony doors and set the bags down as Sarah shifted again so that she was facing him full on. She moved just a little closer, arms crossed.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I really—I really was tired. Yeah."

"I thought you'd like me to bring you breakfast this morning. You know, if you were still tired. Like room service, but I'm bringing it instead of some strapping young French lad who spends a little too much time looking at those long, long legs of yours." His eyes settled on her legs and she pursed her lips, amused and flattered at the same time.

"You mean, like how you're looking at them right now?"

"Am I?" he breathed, and then he shook his head and cleared his throat, turning away. "Uh…sorry. Guilty."

She liked the smirk on his face as he looked down at the food.

Sarah was wary about getting too close. She had to find a place to stash the gun. And quick. The adrenaline was coursing through her. She squirmed nervously, eyes flicking back and forth, taking in her surroundings.

The TV stand had drawers, and it was only 10 to 12 feet away from her. She could hide it if he turned away from her for long enough.

And then Chuck gave her an idea…because she saw his gaze flick to her legs again before he took the coffees out of the holder.

Sarah's limbs were well rested, her nerves alive, fired up, and her skin heated. That, coupled with the look of him, in black jeans and a navy blue t-shirt that complemented his tan skin and dark curls, was making her squirm in…Well, it was desire, wasn't it?

And there he went looking at her legs again. He turned away and reached over to open the bags of food and she moved closer to him, running her fingers up his arm and squeezing. She purposefully made it suggestive, a quick tight squeeze that might remind him of something else.

He turned his amber colored eyes to her and raised an eyebrow.

She'd only meant to interest him, but he caught her by surprise by turning to face her and moving to grab her waist in his hands. She stepped back quickly, her nerves alight, heart racing. "No, I—I should—I should brush my teeth. Morning breath."

He made a face and scoffed. "I don't care."

He closed in on her again, his fingers curling around her hips but she quickly grabbed his hands and pushed them away, taking a few steps back.

She really hadn't thought this through. Clearly.

"Wait, wait. I…" He was confused now. She needed to think of something fast. And then … Ah. Of course. Two birds with one stone, as the saying went.

"Close your eyes!" she said in a rushed voice. And then she calmed herself just enough to give him a seductive look through her eyelashes, popping her hip. "Close your eyes, Chuck," she said, much slower, the words dripping out of her mouth like honey, the 'k' at the end of his name clicking in the silence in a way that made his chest heave with a quick intake of breath. Still got it, she thought to herself.

He dropped his hands to his sides and closed his eyes.

"Don't peek," she teased as she sprinted silently to the drawer under the TV, sliding it open painstakingly, slipping the gun inside, and shutting it again.

"I'm not," he teased back. And she trusted him.

As she scurried back to where she'd been standing, she whipped her camisole off over her head and tossed it to the floor, pushing her panties down once she stopped in front of him and stepping out of them, kicking them away.

"Open your eyes, Chuck."

He did.

And color flooded his cheeks, his golden eyes darkening to a deep brown, swirling in lust. "Uh…whoa."

She put her hands on her hips and shrugged one shoulder, bouncing her eyebrows and biting her lip. "You've got some catching up to do," she said.

A quiet growl came from deep in his chest and then his shirt was being whipped over his head, catching his nose for a moment and causing him to wrinkle it with a wince as he tossed the shirt away. She ignored it graciously and watched him set his fingers to the button and zipper of his jeans.

"W-what about breakfast?" he asked.

"I don't care about breakfast right now," she said truthfully.

His sneakers were kicked away, his socks and jeans joining them, and then he had her in his arms, their bodies pressed flush against each other.

Sarah kissed him hard, weaving her arms around his neck.

So much for keeping her distance from him so that she could make her decision without distraction.

Oh, well.

—-

Chuck had made a move towards the couch at first, but that was altogether too close to where she'd hidden her gun from him. So instead she gave him a teasing tug towards the bedroom.

His eyebrows popped, but he followed her readily enough, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into his front. They had to practically waddle the rest of the way into the bedroom, but they made it.

And he surprised her again when he turned her in his arms and pinned her to the door of the bedroom the moment it shut behind them.

Chuck's kiss was addictive. His taste, the skill with which he moved his lips against hers, and of course…God, the way he used his tongue. It was ridiculous how good this was. But she wanted more.

He delicately curled his fingers around her wrists and lifted them up to pin them by her head. His eyes bore into hers, his jaw clenching in a way that made her feel heat bubbling behind her belly button.

"What are you planning, nerd?" she asked in a low voice, smiling a little.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in an adorable half-grin and then he lowered his mouth to close around one of her nipples.

"Ah!" she gasped, her body jolting with the pleasure of it. His tongue blanketed her hard nub, flicking it, sucking. And she wanted so bad to touch him. But she couldn't, what with the way her wrists were still pinned up by her head. So she tilted her face back and blinked at the ceiling, her breaths coming out in soft whimpers.

Chuck pulled back, teasing her nipple between his teeth gently, and it felt like thousands of little needles were pricking her skin all over her body in the best way. "Chuck!"

She gaped at him as he looked up at her. And then he dove in to taste her neck, his tongue licking her pulse point.

And then he was kissing her lips. That addictive kiss that made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

She bit his lip teasingly.

"Ow!" He chuckled and sucked on his lip where she bit him. "That was bad," he said in a warning tone.

"Did I ever give you any indication I was particularly good?"

Chuck's face became pinched in awe and he shook his head with a softly breathed, "Damn."

And Sarah promptly sank to her knees, tucking her fingers into his boxers and pulling them down to his ankles. She didn't even give him time to step out of them, instead immediately wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking it, squeezing just a little.

She leaned in and took him into her mouth. Wrapping her hands around his hips, she began to bob her head back and forth, swirling her tongue around him, humming deliciously against his cock to make him groan.

She stayed there for a few minutes, getting him hard by teasing, stroking, sucking…

Until his fingers tucked under her arms and he gently gave her a bit of a tug, just a slight indication that he wanted her to stand up. So she did, letting him fall from between her lips, smirking as she dragged her front over his when she stood.

His hand tangled in her hair at the back of her neck and he pulled her in for another kiss. Her toes curled, she shivered, and she had no choice but to moan. He tasted so delicious. Like he'd already sipped the coffee, along with the mint of his toothpaste.

She was in his arms then, forced to wrap her legs around his waist, dragging her fingers through those delicious curls, and she kissed him, giggling when she heard and felt him run into something and grunt in pain.

"You okay?" she whispered, grinning.

"Oh, sure, yeah."

And she laughed outright when he unceremoniously tossed her onto her unmade bed, crawling over her with narrowed eyes. She laughed even harder as he growled like a dork, diving in to attack her neck. She figured out what he was about to do right as his fingers made contact, and he began to tickle her.

"No!" she yelped, still laughing even as she fought him off. It was easy to pin his arms to his sides. And even though it meant his full weight smashed her into the mattress as he laid on top of her, she found she liked it. She liked how heavy he was, his body made up of hot, smooth skin and rippled muscle.

She bit her lip as he looked down into her face, still grinning wildly, his nose wrinkled. And she leaned up to his ear and said, "I want you inside of me."

Chuck's body tensed above hers, and then he shifted down her body a little, and she felt his hardness against her thigh. His brown eyes flashed as he looked down at her. "Say it again." He swallowed hard.

"I want you inside of me," she whispered, nudging him with her hips.

When she let go of his arms, he tucked them underneath her body, cradling her close and kissing her so passionately, and so slowly. She felt like someone had lit her bed on fire.

And then he pulled away and buried his face in her neck. She felt his teeth close around her earlobe and tug and she laughed again. He laughed with her, and they were still laughing even when he finally entered her.

Sarah spread her legs wide, bending them at the knees and digging her heels into the mattress so that she could rock herself into his thrusts. She was so distracted by the feel of him buried inside of her that she didn't expect him to try to tickle her again.

"No!"

She squealed and bumped her groin against his, earning a groan, even as he chuckled. But before she could grab at him, he caught her wrists and pinned them above her, thrusting harder.

Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist and quickly threw herself to the side, rolling him onto his back. She broke his hold on her wrists and started tickling _him_ this time, her laughter almost evil as she gyrated into his lap and let her fingers wiggle under his armpits, down his ribcage, and back up again.

His laughter was hysterical, and she saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes. And she had to admit…

As much as she despised being tickled, this was the most fun she'd had…ever.

He flipped her onto her back, rolling onto her, again taking advantage of her distraction. She was wedged at an angle against the pillows that were propped at the headboard and he arched over her. His strokes were long and hard, making her whimper and grin like an idiot. His arms flexed above her as he held onto the headboard to strengthen his thrusts. And instead of continuing the game right away, she just enjoyed. Being propped up a little meant she could watch him, study his body, the way his abdomen's muscles jerked with every stroke.

There was no way he was as physically strong as some of the other men she'd had sex with in her lifetime, men who'd obsessively chiseled their muscles and increased their strength to survive, but right at that moment, as she felt him, watched him, she found herself boggling at his strength, impressed by him, so turned on.

She reached down and grabbed his ass in both hands, tugging him against her and loving the way he said her name in a breathless whimper.

Chuck pushed himself up at even more of an angle, then tucked his thighs underneath hers, reaching down to grab her hips tightly. He bucked hard against her, their groins making a soft thumping sound that made Sarah feel like she might be going insane, she was so _turned on_.

She cried out in pleasure, letting out a breathless giggle in awe. He leaned back just enough then that she felt him at her g-spot. With one hand flattened on her stomach just under her belly button, he snuck his thumb over her clitoris and started rubbing it in circles as he thrust into her center.

And it took only a dozen or so seconds for her orgasm to build and come crashing over her.

She let out a ragged moan of his name, the fingers of one hand twisting in his hair as she dug the fingers of her other hand into the muscles of his ass. She thought nothing of the nail marks she was probably leaving there.

But she didn't want to stop. This was way too much fun.

So she moved her hands down to his hips and held him in place, hovering over her. "Don't move," she panted, and then she planted her heels, spread her legs more, and started lifting herself against him. Her upward thrusts had him sinking into her over and over. And as she slid a hand back to feel his ass again, she could feel him clenching, reaching for finish.

She held him tightly and thrust faster, whimpering, yelping in pleasure, until finally, he was strung so tight, his body nothing but muscle and hardness.

"Ahhhh! Sarah!"

He came inside of her and she slowed her thrusts, squeezing his ass cheeks as she gently gyrated up into him.

As he finished, they both slumped down to the mattress in a warm heap. She whimpered, as he was still buried inside of her, dragging over her walls. And she bit her lip to keep from whining when he rolled to the side, leaving the cool air to grace her skin where he'd been moments before.

Her eyes were shut and she was controlling her breathing, the exact opposite of alert. So she was unprepared for the feeling of his hand blanketing her crotch. "Chu—nng!"

His fingers slid into her opening, and then he curled them, sending spots into her vision. And he didn't stop pumping and stroking until she came again. She arched herself off of the bed and covered her face to keep him from seeing just how out of control she was.

They laid there limply for a few minutes, silence in the room save for their heavy breathing, and then she felt and heard Chuck shift just a little.

"You really don't like being tickled."

She giggled, finally pulling her hands from her face and blinking at the ceiling in complete awe. "I told you that."

"Yeeaaahhh," he grumbled in satisfaction. "You sure as hell did."

And she laughed hard, enjoying this moment for everything that it was worth.

—-

Sarah decided Chuck had even more money than she'd thought when he didn't even bat an eyelash at renting a car at a moment's notice. It was expensive. Incredibly expensive. Way more expensive than public transportation in coastal France.

There were other ways to get to Les Gorges de la Cagne besides just renting a car and driving there. But Chuck determined it was a lot harder and would take much longer. So he forked up the money for a one day car rental without telling her just how much he'd had to fork up, refusing to let her pay for part of it, and then they got in the car and were off.

It had been a crazy idea, something they'd talked about while lying in her bed after eventually eating the then less-than-warm breakfast Chuck had brought to her suite. He said he still hadn't seen any of France's coastal rivers that people always talked about and she said, "Then let's go."

So here they were.

Over 45 minutes of driving through the stunning streets of Nice, along the coastline and past the airport, then inland and up through Vence into the mountains. They stood at the beginning of the path the pamphlet Sarah had snagged from the lobby of their hotel talked about.

She stuffed the pamphlet back in the bag Chuck had slung over his shoulder and gestured to it. "Well?"

"I should have bought a compass," he said.

She giggled. "Why would you need a compass? We have a river. Just stick close to the river. Then we turn around and follow it back."

"Okay, Dora the Explorer. I'd still like a compass, just in case. So that I know where the ocean is. Unless you've _done_ this before."

"I've been hiking before, yes, Chuck," she said in a flat voice, and she received in even flatter look in return.

"Yeah, me too. I mean…just…you know, like this. Just going to a place you've never been to before and…Never mind, let's just walk," he said with a pout, marching forth onto the pathway.

It was flanked by lush, beautiful green plants and tall trees that arched towards the river. It looked like a fairie land or something straight out of Lord of the Rings.

"Are you pouting?" she asked, following after him, taking in the beauty even as she wondered what was up with him.

"No."

"You seem a little bit like you're pouting."

He turned to face her, slowly walking backwards, narrowing his eyes at her, and then that grin of his swept over his handsome features and he chuckled. "I was pouting a little bit."

She smiled back and reached over to pull at the hem of his shirt affectionately. "Why? We're on a nice hike along one of the most gorgeous rivers in France, some say in all of Europe. You're on a bajillion-week-long vacation in paradise. No pouting."

He chuckled again. "Sorry. But it was only a half-pout."

"I saw a full-pout."

"No, half is this…" He pouted a little. "Full is this." He pouted a lot.

It made her sniff in amusement and shake her head at him.

He turned back around and continued along the path. "I just don't wanna get stranded out here, ya know?"

She made a face, trying not to make fun of him. He'd told her he wasn't a big traveler, that he hadn't been to many places, that most of his travel was only for business. Instead, she decided to ease his mind as best she could without saying she had been stranded in _actual_ forests without rivers to follow, followed by mercenaries with guns at the same time.

"Well, don't worry. I'll get us back. I have a sixth sense about direction. I always seem to know where I am. And, like I said, we're following a river."

They walked in relative silence for a good 15 minutes after that, just taking in the breathtaking scenery. The water was a calming hue of blue, murky around the edges, see-through in the shallow areas, with large boulders dotting the surface. Chuck wandered out towards the water at one point and climbed onto one of the larger boulders, leaning down to dip his hand in, yelping and exclaiming it was cold.

Sarah decided to find out for herself, taking her boots and socks off, rolling up her capris a little, and walking into the water. She flinched, because it truly was cold, but it felt better as she moved even further into the river until it was midway up her calves.

"You're crazy," Chuck said from his perch atop the rock. But there was admiration in the quiet smile he sent her way.

"You like it," she teased.

"I really, really do." He said it without pause, without shame. And then he looked down the river, his smile growing.

"You should try crazy, Chuck. It's kinda fun. Cold. But fun." She winked when he met her gaze, and then she tilted her head down towards the water invitingly.

He pressed his lips together and squinted at her, and then he groaned and rolled his head on his shoulders, climbing back to the shore and pulling his shoes and socks off.

"Yeeess!" she cheered, giving him a round of applause as he stepped into the water.

"Eep! So cold!" He squirmed and shivered, walking like he had a stick up his ass as he neared her. It made her laugh. "You completely understated the amount of _cold_ , Sarah. Jesus Christ."

"I think you're overstating it," she giggled, reaching out for his hand and grasping it as his foot slipped on the rocks and he nearly pitched to the side. "Careful…"

"Hey. I'm 6'4". This is a lot of body to have to control. Grace is not my strong suit."

She turned to face him and held him by his elbows, looking up at him through her eyelashes as he stepped up close to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You've got a lot of other strong suits. I find a new one each day."

"Thank you." He nodded his head at her. "Wait, wait. Have you found one today yet?"

She made a show of thinking about it. "You are a planner. All the snacks you packed into your bag and the little First Aid kit. I never would've thought about that."

"That's true. And look…" He reached behind him and snagged the pamphlet, pulling it out again and opening it. "I have a place to keep our brochure thanks to my buying this backpack. Which means we now know there is a really pretty bridge in here…" He glanced over his shoulder, down the river. "Somewhere."

"I think we have to go further down, to where it gets a little higher, more rocky."

"Well, Miss Sixth Sense About Direction, I will follow you wherever you lead me." He nodded emphatically and she couldn't help but move up on her tiptoes to kiss him right beside his mouth.

They hiked along the path for awhile, sticking close to the river line. Everywhere they went, they could hear the trickle of moving water somewhere. Birds and other creatures chirped and clicked as Sarah and Chuck explored.

And she watched happily as Chuck found some rocks to climb onto, pulling himself all the way to the top and dangling from the ledge. He puffed his cheeks out and made baboon sounds, kicking his feet out.

Her instincts kicked in and she pulled her phone out of her pocket, snapping a quick picture of him.

"Nooo!"

She laughed. "Why not?"

"I'm being ridiculous! You're not supposed to take a picture of someone when they're being ridiculous."

She made a face that clearly said 'You're wrong'.

"Um. I'm pretty sure that's when you're _supposed_ to take the picture, Chuck."

He narrowed his eyes and dropped down off the ledge to land amongst the leaves. But the leaves on the ground hid the root that was sticking up, and when Chuck landed on it, he toppled backwards and landed on his ass. Hard.

Sarah rushed to his side, her hand pressed to her mouth. She did her best not to laugh, but it was difficult as she knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Just my pride. I think Mother Nature has it out for me personally, making sure the leaves land _just so_ to cover that root. Could've broken my ankle."

Sarah sniffed in amusement. "You don't think Mother Nature has better things to do with her time?"

And just as he opened his mouth to reply, everything suddenly seemed a little darker.

With a frown, Sarah looked around, then tilted her head back to look up.

Clouds were obstructing the sun. When had that happened? The sky was clear when they'd been driving up to the river.

And then there was a flash of light.

"Uh oh," she heard Chuck mutter.

The rain started immediately, just a few large drops that slipped through the trees. And then there were more, and they were coming faster.

"Apparently Mother Nature _doesn't_ have better things to do with her time," Sarah said, meeting Chuck's gaze.

"See?" His curls were already getting smashed down by the rain. "What do we do?"

"We have to go back. If there's lightning, it isn't all that safe under the trees."

He made a disappointed face but didn't argue. He was a man of his word, Chuck Bartowski. Because apparently he had every intention of following her lead like he said he would.

"At least we got half a day in," she said over her shoulder, and she grabbed his hand to lead him back along the path.

The rain got worse, though, as they trudged through the mud, and Sarah found she was soaked to the bone after a half hour. It didn't let up for a moment. And she wondered at what point it would actually be dangerous for them to be out here.

"So you can take back the nice thing you said about me being a good planner earlier," Chuck said over the rain. "Because I definitely didn't look at the weather forecast for today."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Okay, you know what? We can't keep going. We need to just get out of it."

"Where?" Chuck asked, looking around, water dripping from his nose, chin, hair, everything. "There aren't any conveniently placed, random cottages out here."

"No, but there's that conveniently placed rock formation that looks like it might provide a bit of cover." She pointed at the other side of the river, across a rope bridge that looked sturdy enough but still daunting at the moment.

"Of course. A janky-ass bridge leading right to it. You know what happens to people in movies when they're in this situation, Sarah?"

"What, Chuck?" she asked in amusement, pushing wet hair out of her face and moving along the sopping wet brush towards the bridge.

"They go 'Oh look! A bridge! How fortuitous!' And they go to cross the bridge, and at least one of their party falls off, or the rope breaks on the last person, and they get rushed down the river and are lost forever."

Sarah just laughed and shook her head. "Life isn't a movie, Chuck. We just have to be careful. This bridge has been here for awhile, by the looks of it." And she'd crossed worse looking ones, that was for sure. She didn't want to say that out loud. He'd wonder when she'd had to cross a terrible bridge in the middle of a jungle before.

She tugged on the thick rope they'd be walking on. It didn't even budge. And then she stood up straight and grabbed at the rope railings. They didn't budge, either. So she shrugged and put her foot on the rope, ready to start crossing.

"Wait." She looked over her shoulder at Chuck and raised an eyebrow. "This bridge might not be sturdy. I'll go over first."

He looked so serious, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched. And she did everything she could to keep from laughing.

"Right, and if you don't die, then I can cross," she said, her mouth twitching in mirth.

He gave her a flat look. "Sarah—"

"Chuck, we can both go at the same time. It's a perfectly workable bridge. The water isn't even that deep here. The river isn't even moving yet. If you _did_ fall in, you could just swim to the embankment on the other side. You'd be soaking wet, but that's not much of a difference from this." She picked at her soaked shirt and shrugged.

He pressed his lips together into a tight line and gestured to the bridge. "Will you please let me go first? Just in case? I have this inherent feeling that you'd be much better at rescuing me than I'd be at rescuing you. I'd try my damnedest."

She giggled and stepped away. "Go ahead, Sir Galahad."

Sarah watched him as he carefully stepped onto the rope with one foot, grabbing the railings tightly and starting to inch along. She was teasing him but deep down, she felt a warmth she hadn't felt since the rain started when she realized he was trying to be protective. She couldn't remember the last time someone had actively tried to protect her.

Even if he was being a little too I'm-A-Man-I'll-Make-The-Sacrifice about this. And in an unnecessary situation. The rope bridge was completely safe. In fact, she was sure hikers crossed it all the time without batting an eye.

She joined him on the bridge and followed behind, not saying anything even as he moved especially slow.

He hopped over the last three feet and landed in the mud on the other side with a splash, turning around and offering her a hand. She took it, despite not needing it, and he helped her down to his side.

There was a moment when she thought she might kiss him, in spite of them being a couple dozen feet from makeshift shelter. Their eyes met, their chests brushing, her hand still trapped in his loose grip, and she leaned in close. "I'm super wet."

He bit his lip, probably to keep from chuckling, and then he widened his eyes dramatically. "Whoa there, tigress. Chill out with the innuendo. We're in public."

She was still laughing even as she ducked under the rock overhang to slip into a small dry nook that was covered well enough by the rock that the ground was only slightly moist beneath them. It felt good not to be pelted by rain anymore.

And she turned around to face Chuck, scooting deeper into the cave, she scoped out their new digs, so to speak. It was about 3 x 4, and just tall enough for Chuck to sit up straight she thought.

The only problem with this arrangement was that there was no way of knowing when the rain would stop, or _if_ it would stop.

But she'd cross that bridge (again) if she came to it.

For now, she let Chuck plop down against the stone floor of the small cave-like nook first, and then she joined him, leaning against his shoulder and pulling her legs close to her chest.

"This was quite the find, Dora."

"Would you quit with the Dora the Explorer shit? You realize there are better references out there. Like, what about Indiana Jones? What about the Tomb Raider lady?"

His body jolted against hers and she turned to look at him, furrowing her brow. "What?" she asked.

"You know what Tomb Raider is?"

"Of course I do. She's a bad ass English lady version of Indiana Jones. I saw the movie."

He shook the gape off of his face. "Right. The movies with Angelina Jolie. I forgot about those."

"I know it was a video game first."

Chuck made a pained humming sound. "Sarah, you have no idea how hot it is to hear you bring up Lara Croft on your own, with no prompting from me, an actual nerd. I'm dripping wet from the rain and there's a cool breeze coming in here that's definitely shiver-worthy, but I'm almost _too warm_ now."

She reared her head back and raised her eyebrows. "So what you're saying is that you have a nerd kink."

"I probably do. But it never happened with anybody else. Just you. I might have a you kink."

That made her laugh. "That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders with a chuckle, pulling her into his side. "You need to hang out around nicer people, Sarah Walker."

"Mm. Maybe."

She nuzzled against him quietly, pressing her face into his shirt, reveling in his body heat. They stayed that way for awhile. And the steady rise and fall of his chest, the thump of his heartbeat against her cheek, had lulled her into a state of half-sleep, he just felt so comfortable and safe.

After nearly an hour, he finally shifted a little against her and she opened her eyes, aware of the permanent small smile on her face.

"Sorry," he said as he jostled her by readjusting against the ground. "I have exactly no ass whatsoever, so it's basically bone on stone, here."

She burst into laughter. "Bone on stone. That's a new one."

"It's true." He squirmed in discomfort.

"Put most of your weight on one cheek and lean against me."

He did and she cradled him close, her arms around him. "Better?"

"Mmmm so much." He nuzzled his face into her chest and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes, even though he wouldn't see it anyways.

They were silent for a few more minutes and then his voice drifted up to her, a little muffled by her breast that his face still pressed against. "I got trapped in a rainstorm once before. Never in a French wonderland forest. But…it was a rainstorm."

"Oh, yeah? Where were you?"

"Driving in upstate Washington, near the border with Vancouver."

"I hear it rains a lot there," she teased, and he laughed.

"Uh, yeah. But this was bad. I was driving with my then girlfriend and it got so bad, I literally couldn't see ten feet in front of me. I had to turn on my high beams and guide the car into a clump of trees, then turn off my lights so that cars behind me didn't rear-end me." He snaked his arms around her waist and scooted closer, moving his face so that it was tucked in the crook of her neck. She felt his breath fanning her skin and it sent a shiver through her.

"What were you doing in Washington with your girlfriend?"

"We had a week off from college—I think Thanksgiving maybe? And, uh, well…Her uncle had a cabin so…"

Sarah giggled. "It's cute that you don't want to tell me you had a vacation in a cabin in the woods with your college girlfriend, Chuck, but I promise, I'll survive the info."

He pulled back and winced. "It's just…weird…talking about her while I'm in this semi-dry cave in the wilderness with an infinitely better person than she could ever be. And, not that this matters in the grand scheme of things, but…you're so much hotter. Whoever created you turned the sexy dial up to 11."

"Up to 11?"

"Spinal Tap reference. No to Spinal Tap?"

She shook her head, super warm again. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize for not being a giant dweeb, Sarah. Never apologize for that."

She laughed. "But I appreciate the sentiment. You're not so bad to look at, either."

"You mean my dashing good looks? Full head of hair?" He smoldered at her and she couldn't help it anymore. She cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. She held on tight, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tugging him close.

He held her back just as tightly, his fingers twisting in her shirt, opening his mouth to taste her.

Sarah wasn't sure how long they ended up making out in their tiny sanctuary in the woods, but he eventually turned to pin her against the smooth rock surrounding them.

She stretched her legs out to get more comfortable, but then frowned into the kiss. "Mm," she pulled back just a little. "I'm not sure I've ever made out with someone in a less comfortable place."

"Thank you," he chirped.

She furrowed her brow, amused. "Thank you?"

"Yeah. You're still making out with me, in spite of how uncomfortable this damp sort-of-cave is. So I'm taking it as a compliment."

Her giggle bubbled out of her as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, pressing her lips against his damp neck. She willed any thoughts about anything other than him out of her mind, refusing to think about Langston Graham, the CIA, the questionable future of her career.

"I've made out in less comfortable places, honestly."

Her eyes snapped open and she turned her face to raise an eyebrow at him, letting him see her smirk, careful not to show any jealousy. Not that she was jealous. It didn't make sense to be jealous of some woman he was with however long ago.

However, her mind let her know that there would be women after her. Maybe _the_ woman. Someone he'd decide to spend the rest of his life with. That woman did send a red hot spike of jealousy through her.

She shook it off, not wanting him to see it.

"Have you?" she teased. "See, now I'm curious."

"At the LA Fair, at the top of a broken-down ferris wheel."

"Wow. Congratulations on that one."

"Thanks. Then there was the time the police came to break up one of the parties at Stanford. My girlfriend and I hid in the bushes a block away."

"You were drunk?"

"Yes. Yes, we were." He nodded.

"Classy."

Chuck laughed and shrugged. "I'm a pretty classy guy."

She grinned.

The storm only lasted a few more minutes before it lightened enough for Sarah to finally decide they could continue their trek back to the rental car. They crawled out of their erstwhile sanctuary into the light drizzle that got lighter ever moment.

And finally, as they hiked back, it stopped altogether.

"At least the sun's finally coming out again," Chuck said as he walked in front of her.

She snorted. "Yeah. Thankfully. Maybe our clothes will be dry enough that we won't ruin the seats in the rental car."

"That'd be nice."

Sarah had thought about maybe continuing their hike further along the river again, but it made more sense to go back. There was no telling whether the rain would start up again, and she was sure the small cave she'd spotted were few and far between.

When they finally got back to the start of the trail, it was late afternoon, and Chuck looked as beat as she felt.

She slid into the driver's seat and smiled to herself when he didn't try to argue with her, instead folding himself into the passenger's seat and falling asleep almost immediately.

Sarah mused on how easily he could fall asleep in this rental car, in a country thousands and thousands of miles away, across an ocean, with someone he'd met only a week earlier driving him…how could he even be sure she was taking them back to the hotel? But he was sure. He was comfortable. He obviously felt safe enough to sleep, give her access to him in his most vulnerable state.

And for the hour they spent in traffic, Sarah felt herself wanting to get to a place in her life when she could feel that safe and at peace. When she could trust someone the way Chuck trusted people.

But by the time they arrived back at the rental headquarters, that notion had flown out the window. It wasn't possible. Even if she did leave the CIA, she would always look over her shoulder.

She'd spent too much of her life deep in the system. Always looking for possible danger.

That would never stop.

She had enemies everywhere.

Always.

Whether she was working for the CIA or not.

"Are you getting that 'rain' feeling in your body like I am?"

She turned to glance at Chuck. "The 'rain' feeling? In your body?"

"Yeah. It's weird. The air just feels…weird. It's giving me inner feelings. Like it's gonna rain again."

Sarah turned in the keys to the car and they walked away from the rental place, walking down the road to the main street and making their way back to the hotel. It was only about a 20 minute walk thankfully.

"What are you doing for dinner, Sarah Walker?" Chuck asked as they slid into the hotel lobby. He glanced around at the Mediterranean themed decor, or maybe he was watching the people…and then she thought maybe he was looking for his sister. Would he bolt or would he see it as a way to introduce them? She wasn't sure how she felt about either option.

"Uh…" She shook her head, realizing she still hadn't answered him, as lost as she was in her own head. They got to the elevators and he pushed the button to call one down for them. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."

"I saw a sandwich place by the rental place. Do you want to have dinner out on my terrace later? Something light and cheap?"

"Your terrace?" She laughed. "It's a balcony."

"Let me live my rich boy dreams for a moment, Sarah, God." She laughed harder as they stepped into the elevator. Chuck pressed the button for their respective floors.

"What time do you want me?"

He shrugged. "Whenever you're hungry."

"Okay."

They split up then, and Sarah slid into her shower, standing there under the jet for awhile, washing the mud and stray leaf bits from her skin, scrubbing her hair, and tossing her crusty clothing into a bag she'd send down to be professionally laundered with the rest of her things before she left Nice for good. Which, she decided, could be in just two days.

Two days. God.

* * *

Dinner on the terrace? Yes, please. (Balcony, yes. I know, Sarah. Let me live my rich girl dreams for a moment GOD)

Please review! Thanks, all!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	15. First Rule to Seduction Just FYI

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** HAPPY NEW YEAR! Holidays are a drain, but at least 2016 is freaking gone, am I right? Peace out, you shitty shitty SHITTY year! Byyye!

To celebrate 2016 being OVER FINALLY, I'm posting a chapter. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

When she texted Chuck she was hungry after a post-shower nap that lasted for awhile, he asked if she could wait a half hour, and did she like pesto or aioli? She figured he was going down to the shop himself to get their dinner, and while she wanted to tell him to wait for her so that she could go with him and buy the food, since he'd done more than his fair share of food purchasing over the last week, she instead plopped back onto her bed and told him a half hour was fine.

She was tired, but in that really good way that made you feel supremely comfortable. This was why she liked night time runs. But only if she went hard. That body-deep tiredness made falling asleep so much easier.

She waited a little longer than 30 minutes, just staring at the ceiling from her bed and then finally climbing to her feet and slipping into jeans and a button-up flannel, tossing her hair up into a messy bun.

By the time she arrived at his room, he was there, and as he let her inside, she saw that she was right. He'd gone and bought the dinner himself. She spun on her heels to look at him, crossing her arms and playing like she hadn't figured it out. "How much do I owe you, Chuck?"

He puffed his cheeks out and raised his eyebrows. "Owe me? Why, whatever do you mean?" She gave him a flat look and he chuckled. "It's on me this time."

"It's on you all the time, Chuck. That's not fair."

"They're just sandwiches and tasty fruit sodas! That's nada!"

"In Nice? Nothing is nada."

"Nothing is nada. That was a good one. I liked that."

Sarah snorted and rolled her eyes, heading towards the food on the table. "It looks like it might rain soon, but the air is nice. Still want to eat on the _terrace_?" she emphasized the last word, smirking and Vanna White-ing towards the door to the balcony.

"I like you," he drawled, grinning cheekily. "Ja, fräulein. To ze terrace!" he finished in a hilarious but cartoonish German accent.

Luckily the rainstorm they'd experienced earlier at Les Gorges de la Cagne seemed not to have been quite so bad here at the hotel, and the balcony furniture was already dry.

And as they sat out on the balcony, enjoying their "delicious and nutritious" sandwiches, according to Chuck, he finally broke the silence, and broke her sense of calm all at once, unfortunately.

"So you said our damp sanctuary in the woods was the least comfortable place you'd made out with someone…" He paused and she had no idea where he was going with this. "I gotta know, is this the least fancy date you've ever been on? Eating sandwiches on a hotel balcony with a guy who's in his PJs? Well, jeans. But…in my mind I'm in PJs."

Sarah laughed because she knew that was what he'd been going for. But she was also wracking her brain. What, exactly, could she say to that? The dates she'd been on in her life had been after Graham recruited her. Which meant they'd all pretty much been part of the job. Dates she'd gone on to get classified info they could use against her mark when they brought him to justice. Ways to find tyrants' hiding places. It had been because of a date she'd gone on that they found out where Roland Taft's Mediterranean loft was. The site where the man had finally met his maker.

Had she ever even had a real date before Chuck?

It had always been disappearing into an apartment or her hotel room with a guy after dancing in a club, or the fancy mission dates where she'd extract information over rounds of truth serum laced champagne.

And because she was way out of her depth, she ignored the ache in her chest and said, "Uh, yeah. This might be the least fancy date I've been on."

"Date a lot of guys who can take you to the ritzy restaurants, huh?"

"I guess." She shrugged.

By the look on his face, she thought he might be picking up on her cues, and he quickly changed the subject. Mercifully.

"Good sandwiches though, huh?"

The air became awkward then, and she regretted it awfully. "I, uh, I like the aioli. It was a good choice."

"You picked it! So good job, you."

She smiled and took another bite. She wanted to bring it back. And she didn't want him to think she was upset with him for the personal question. She wasn't upset, she just didn't know how to handle lying to him.

And that…

Well, that was terrifying.

Because she was usually so damn good at lying.

"Chuck, I…" God, why was she doing this? Why was she bringing this up? "I actually don't have a lot of dates I can really talk about." Because they were classified. "That's why I was kind of weird just now. I don't have time for real dates. Not really. And that's one of the reasons why my work is…I mean, I'm not in a good place with my job. The whole lack of free time, lack of life outside of…the job. You know?"

He melted into his chair a little, his face softening. He set the small sliver that was left of the sandwich that had once been massive down in the wrapped it had come in and leaned across the table to look closely at her.

"I get you. You don't have to explain. Workaholics unite." He teasingly thrust his fist across the table and she giggled, shaking her head, even as she reached across to bump his fist with her own. "Although I imagine men regularly throw themselves at your feet, whether you date them or not."

Sarah shrugged, unsure of how to answer that. "I can say, though, that I had never been on a picnic until you took me on one a couple nights ago. When we rented bikes."

He sat up straight and boggled at her. "Seriously?"

She ducked her head shyly.

"We need to do more of those."

And as she nodded, she realized there was a chance they wouldn't. A pretty good chance, after everything. Because the more she stayed here with Chuck, the more she wanted to be with Chuck, the less likely she thought it was that she'd stay with Chuck. She was Sarah Walker, agent of the CIA. More than that, she was the Ice Queen. IQ. The only risks she took were ones that put her in the crosshairs, guerrillas, criminals, killers, tyrants. Could she take a risk like this? Abandoning everything she knew to walk into the unknown? She'd be lost.

Suddenly a large drop splattered against the table right next to her hand. "Uh oh."

Lightning flashed over Chuck's shoulder in the distance, followed by the rolling rumble of thunder. "Time to move inside!" he chirped.

They clambered to gather their food and drinks, leaping inside just as the rain started up again. Chuck slid the door shut with his foot and turned to face her, following suit as she set her meal down on the table just inside the door.

"I know I'm an LA boy, but this sudden rain thing didn't seem like the French Riviera."

She chuckled. "You are _definitely_ an LA boy."

Chuck pulled his chair out and sat across from her, glaring teasingly. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I plead the fifth."

That got a laugh out of him. "Fine. We'll change the subject. What's another thing you've always wanted to do but never have?"

"Uhhh…" She grinned, looking down at her food, fiddling with the bottle she was drinking from. Where did she even begin? "I, um, I don't really know. I can't think of anything offhand."

He made a face. "Pfft. Come on. Not a single thing?"

Sarah shrugged and leaned back against her chair. Did she really feel comfortable telling him any of the things she'd always wanted to do? Yes, she knew. She did feel comfortable. He was safe. This conversation was safe.

"I've always wanted to…" She sighed and shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself. "I've always wanted a garden." She gnawed on her lip, feeling shy. "Not, like, a pot with a plant in it. But a real garden. With fruits and veggies growing in it. You know? Getting in the dirt early in the morning before the sun gets high. Watching it grow. Then I'd make some pasta dish or something and I could just walk out there and pick the basil from my garden."

A smile grew on his face that was soft and warm. She wanted to melt into it and stay there forever, it made her feel so good. But she was still clinging to that shyness that pervaded whenever she said something 100 percent true about herself.

"Where you live now, you can't have a garden?"

She thought about the apartment in D.C. that was a hop skip and a jump from Langley, the CIA's headquarters. The stark, grey building, and the small balcony that was outside of her small window. She didn't even keep a potted plant on it. How would she make sure it didn't die with how often she was gone on missions?

"No. It's an apartment. I don't have any yard or anything like that. Just a tiny balcony off a fire escape."

"Ah. Yeah. City life." He nodded.

"I guess."

"Maybe someday you will live somewhere that allows you to plant your own garden."

She put everything she had into a smile, attempting to keep the mixture of sadness and bitterness she felt out of it. He had no idea. She'd never have a garden. It wouldn't happen. But she took his hand and squeezed it gratefully anyway.

"Maybe."

And then she shook her head. "What about you?" she asked.

"Oh, so many things," he chuckled, and she grinned. "But the first thing that popped into my head just now…taking a beautiful woman out on a yacht and seducing the pants off her."

Sarah laughed so hard she rocked forward. She hadn't expected that answer. Maybe something about curing cancer or world peace or something a lot more Boy Scout-ish. Even something more adventurous. Like skydiving or something. Hanging out in a cage in shark infested water.

Instead, he wanted to seduce a woman on yacht.

"Sorry. I know it's shallow. Like, I don't even _want_ a yacht for myself. They're such a waste of money. You can't really go anywhere far in one. If you try to, you'll get ransacked by pirates—don't laugh at me, there are still pirates out there and people get robbed and killed all the time." Sarah clamped her fingers down around her lips to stop herself from laughing. And he glared, humor twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I just imagine it'd be so…I don't know, sexy. Floating out there on the water in a super fancy room with champagne, the moonlight, nobody else around…I just want to do it sometime."

"Okay, but what if you meet some rich woman someday and she takes you out onto _her_ yacht and seduces the pants off of _you_?" she asked flirtatiously.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm perfectly fine with this. As long as it's just me and her, and someone's pants come off at some point."

Sarah laughed again. "The pants have to come off."

"Absolutely."

"Well, I'm not judging you for that. Everyone's allowed their fantasy. And I think a trip out on a yacht might be nice." She paused, and without filtering herself, she mumbled, "With the right person, that is."

Because she'd been on yachts before. Two, to be exact. One had been a few years ago. She'd let a man kiss her, put his hands on her, even untie her bikini top, before she got what she needed and elbowed him in the temple hard enough to knock him out immediately. She dove off with her waterproof tape recorder and swam to shore, never to be seen or heard from again by the playboy millionaire's playboy son. But damn, his daddy had gotten his with that evidence. The second one had been when she'd blown up Roland Taft's yacht. It had exploded to smithereens.

Neither of those times had been romantic. They'd been awful.

But she would be lying if she didn't admit that she would love to be on a yacht in a non-deadly situation. And, like she said, with the right person.

"The right person. Exactly," he agreed, nodding. "You, uh, you ever been on one?"

She raised her eyebrows and looked away as she lied. "No. I haven't."

"Yeah, me neither. Like you said, just a fantasy." He shrugged. "You have any?"

"What?"

"Fantasies." He leaned in close, his elbows on the table top. And Sarah couldn't help but squirm a little at the way the tone of his voice made her feel.

"Fantasies? Mine?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Sure."

"Uh, no. Not really." Then she paused. "I mean…there's one."

He leaned closer. "Tell me."

"Well…" She leaned in as well, feeding off of the hunger in his gaze. "He takes me out to a romantic dinner, candlelight, decadent food, expensive wine. And then he takes me back to my place…"

"Mhm…"

"…I invite him in…"

"Do you?"

"Yep. And as we undress each other…" He leaned in even closer as she bit her lip. "…Kissing, hands just…everywhere…" She paused dramatically. "He passes out because he drank too much."

Chuck blinked and sat back. And then laughter exploded out of him and he hunched forward, shutting his eyes, putting his hand on his forehead. He lifted his gaze up to her eventually as she giggled mischievously, folding his hands together and pressing his cheek into them, shaking his head. "That was messed up."

"Was it?"

"Yeah. It was. I thought we'd both moved passed that, but apparently I was wrong. A man can't make any mistakes around you, _apparently_."

She laughed, crumbling up her wrapper and reaching across to do the same with his, tossing both in the bag and smashing it down, pushing it to the side. "It wasn't so much a mistake. It was cute. And anyways, you made up for it the next morning."

"Glad to hear it." Chuck pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. "But as long as we're on the subject of, um, fantasies…" Sarah perked up, interested. "What do you think about a long hike along a French river, a rainstorm forcing you into a dank cave where you make out, a nice chill dinner, all of which is topped off with being carried to his bed where you stay for the rest of the night."

Sarah let out a slow breath through her nostrils, then she pursed her lips and lifted an eyebrow, squirming in her seat again. "As a fantasy…? Maybe a little too detailed." He chuckled, his face shining with affection. It made her feel so, so good. "But if it were to happen, I'd be all for it." She paused and gave him a long look that was unmistakable…At least she hoped. Maybe she should be more clear just in case. "What I mean to say is, why are you still sitting over there? Get over here and take me to bed."

He didn't even say anything. His eyes widened and he hastened to his feet. She stood just as he stopped at her side, and she giggled with a playful squeal as he knelt down and lifted her into his embrace, one arm tucked under her knees, the other around her back.

Sarah rounded his neck with her arms and kissed him, feeling him smile against her lips.

And then they were moving through the room, and he pushed through the door to the bedroom with so much intent that the door swung back and hit the wall.

He didn't seem to care at all as he carried her to the bed and set her down on it, his fingers immediately starting on the buttons of her flannel. With each one he unbuttoned, he lowered his lips to the skin that was revealed, teasing her bellybutton with his tongue, moving up more and more, dragging his lips along her ribcage, until he opened the front of the shirt all the way and pushed the cotton cloth out of his way.

She tried to sit up to shrug the shirt down her arms and take it off all the way, but Chuck held her down gently, shaking his head, his eyes flashing. And then he lowered his mouth to surround one of her pert nipples, licking, sucking…tasting her skin. Sarah's eyelids fluttered and she let out a soft whimper, biting her lip as his fingers clamped shut around her other nipple, pinching her in time with what he did with his mouth.

"Oh, yes," she whispered, turning her face into the pillow he'd laid her on. He switched a few times, moving back and forth, alternating between his mouth and his fingers. She didn't know how long it lasted. All she knew was that his hair felt so good in her fingers, his mouth so good on her body, his hands so talented.

Until he finally started shifting down her body again, following the grooves of her muscles in her abdomen, and kissing her lower belly right above the button of her jeans.

He took what seemed like an hour undoing her pants, unzipping them with the tab clenched between his teeth (which…dear God, he almost pushed her over the edge just doing that), spending time peeling them down past her hips, his fingers curled in the waistband…Lips kissing her sensitive skin along the hem of her panties…

Sarah just sighed and threw her head back, arching herself off of the bed so that he could pull her pants clear of her ass, and then he clutched her cheeks over her panties and squeezed, pressing his mouth to her sex with nothing but light cotton between his tongue and her entrance.

Her eyelids fluttered and she breathed his name, reaching up to hold onto the headboard. Chuck pulled her jeans down even more, kneading her thighs with skilled fingers, still stimulating her between her legs with his lips and tongue over her panties.

The jeans cleared her knees, moved lower and lower to reveal her shins, and he kneaded her calves.

Until finally, she saw a swish of dark blue as he tossed the jeans away from them and crawled back up her body, lowering his weight on top of her and kissing her. She opened her mouth for him and licked along his lips, immediately feeling him meet her tongue with his, Chuck's deep groan buzzing against her chest.

Sarah grabbed his shirt at his back, grappling for a hand hold and pulling at it. She was starting to feel a bit desperate, in spite of how damn good it felt to have him take his time with the foreplay.

Chuck tilted his torso up from hers, which pressed his groin directly into hers and she hummed in pleasure, watching him whip the shirt off and throw it to the side. She immediately put her hands on his chest, teasing his nipples, grazing her nails down to his abs and stroking his skin there oh so lightly.

Chuck grumbled and thrusted into her, making her grasp. She bent her legs at his waist and used her thighs to pull him down onto her again, arching her hips into his to meet him as he took her hint and thrust again.

And then he kept going, thrusting slowly. His strokes were long and methodical, and she felt him hardening under his jeans, but instead of rushing him and telling him to take his pants off, she bit her tongue in the proverbial sense and just rode out the sensations.

The buzz was slowly increasing between her legs, that tightness behind her belly button more and more evident. She used her grip on the headboard and her shoulders to arch into his thrusts, rubbing herself against his bulge.

Sarah gasped, climbing higher and higher, almost there…

And she reached down to jam her hands between their bodies to unbutton and unzip his jeans, yanking the front open so that his boxers were the only thing covering him. She felt him so much better this way as she moved her hands to let him start thrusting again.

"Yes!" she whimpered. "I'm almost there…Nng…"

Sarah clamped her hands down on his ass and squeezed in time with his strokes as they got harder and longer.

Until the pressure behind her belly button was more like an explosion and the buzzing between her legs sent an unexplainable burst of complete pleasure through her whole body.

She cried out, gyrating up into him to make her climax last longer.

And finally, she flopped back onto the mattress and took a few whimpering breaths.

Chuck laid flat on top of her again and covered her breasts with kisses, before sucking on her nipple again, his fingers making lazy circles on her hips just above her panty line.

"Hmm…" she hummed, turning her face into her pillow. "When are you gonna take your pants off?"

He chuckled against her nipple, his chest bouncing into her lower stomach, fingers still teasing her panty line. "You don't want it to be a surprise?"

Sarah sent her companion a flat look.

"You don't like surprises?"

Her look got flatter and he laughed, sliding up her body and propping himself on his elbows so that he could hover above her, their groins pressed tightly together.

"Mm…Surprises are fine," she admitted. "Here. With you. In a bed." Then she paused. "BUT! not the kind of surprise where you're rutting each other senseless and someone walks in. I'm not a fan of that kind of surprise." She rushed on before he could speak. "Go ahead and take your pants off whenever, though I should warn you, I kind of want you to do it right now so if you don't do it soon, I might have to take things into my own hands." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bumped his crotch with hers teasingly.

"First of all… _impatient_ ," he accused, raising an eyebrow.

"I never claimed I was perfect."

He chuckled. "And second of all, agreed about the someone walking in thing. But the only person who would walk in here with that Do Not Disturb sign on the door is my sister, and 1) Awesome surprised her with a day trip to Monaco and they'll be there until early morning gambling and partying, 2) she doesn't have a key to my room. So we're safe."

"A day trip to Monaco? Oooo that sounds nice. Awesome sounds…"

"Awesome? Yeah." He grinned. "And incredibly romantic, I heard way too many times from El when she first started dating him."

Sarah giggled.

"I'm messing around, mostly," he emphasized. "It's good to see my sister happy. She deserves it."

He settled more of his weight on her, propping his head up with one elbow, chin in hand, and stroking up and down her side gently with the other, shifting the flannel she still wore to the side.

Sarah bit her lip again. As much as she and Chuck flirted about her being impatient, the assassin felt a niggling curiosity tugging at her mind…at her heart, even. Chuck's sister was engaged, wasn't she? And Chuck hadn't gone into much detail about that, really. Why would he?

But Sarah was curious. She found herself wondering what that experience was like. It was such a normal but, by all accounts, _major_ part of life—getting engaged. It was a decision Sarah was sure she'd never make herself. The decision to get married, tie herself to one person for the rest of her life, choose _one single person_ to fall asleep next to and wake up next to the next morning, "a forever companion" someone had once said in a movie. It had stuck in her brain while the rest of the phony romantic comedy had gone entirely forgotten. Ellie and Awesome had made that decision and she was aching to know about it.

So much so that she didn't stop herself from asking Chuck, "Hey, how did they get engaged? I-I mean, what was it like? Were you there?"

She was glad when he didn't give her a look like she was some sort of weirdo nosy person, like it wasn't her business. Because it really wasn't her business. She was just some random fellow traveler he'd met during vacation in Nice. She wasn't entitled to know anything about his life, and especially not his sister's life.

But instead, he narrowed his eyes at the headboard thoughtfully, before dragging his gaze back to her face. "I was there. Yeah. They didn't really notice me, though." Sarah raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. "Well, Awesome—Devon. Devon knew I was Ellie's only relative he could really count on to be a part of it, you know?" She nodded. "So, and this was really sneaky, he took me on a hiking trip up into the mountains. Just, like, a three-day backpacking thing with tents and all that. And he took me way out into the middle of the wilderness, I swear…" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Like, it was somewhere I never would've found my way back from without him, which is why I say he was so sneaky. And he turned to me while we were looking out into this valley—I can still see the valley in my head—which isn't that big of a deal, I guess, 'cause it was only, like, three months ago that this happened, I'm making it sound like it was years ago."

Sarah giggled and moved her hand to his back, rubbing him in an affectionate and intimate way that she was completely unaware of.

"But anyways, he turned to me and he told me he wanted to ask Ellie to marry him. I think that was probably the most serious and intense that I'd ever seen him, too. Like, you don't know the guy, but he is the nicest, grinniest, most friendly, positive, upbeat dude. Like, you'd be on a sinking boat with the guy and he'd be like…" He pulled his hand away from her waist and flashed a thumbs up. "'Awesome! I wanted to go swimming anyways!'"

Sarah threw her head back with a laugh.

"It's true," he chuckled. "So seeing him that serious when he told me that, I was kind of floored. But then, at the same time, I'd kind of always just taken it for granted that they'd get married at some point. Didn't know when, but I just expected it. He's been like my brother for years."

Sarah felt herself smiling, the quiet of the room settling over her. And she snuggled further into Chuck's warmth.

"That's nice," she said, her eyes shining in sincerity.

"It is. Yeah. It was a good day."

It felt supremely good, hearing about something so normal. All of these years on the job, distancing herself from other people, she'd sometimes catch herself romanticizing about the simple joys in life that she knew existed, but feared she'd never have for herself.

And in spite of knowing she'd never get a proposal like Awesome's proposal to Ellie, in spite of knowing she'd never have the kind of kinship Chuck seemed to have with his future brother-in-law, it made her feel really good knowing that sort of thing existed. Even during the worst days, when she was feeling the most awful, with the darkest of clouds settled over her head, she'd have this reminder. She did what she did for people to continue experiencing those simple joys.

Other people.

It would never be her.

Those words echoed in her mind, and she could feel her smile dimming. She didn't want him to see it, to question it. So instead she sought his touch, the comfort of his tender hands on her body, the intimacy of her name on his lips—or at least, the name he knew.

Maybe she'd never know the simple joys for herself, but she would always have this. She would take this, because it was all she'd get. She would cling to it.

She would cling to _him_.

And she did, lifting her torso from the mattress and propping herself up with her elbow, her other hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

He opened his mouth in invitation and she smirked into the kiss, letting her tongue wander out to meet with his. As they kissed, Chuck's arms slid around her back and he pulled her tightly against his chest, groaning softly.

The weight of him was too much for her arm to support and in such an uncomfortable position, so she moved it to wrap around his shoulders and they both thumped down against the mattress together.

She giggled as he moved his lips down her jaw, his teeth grazing her skin there as he grinned in amusement.

Her hands free now, she slid her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, giving them a little tug to reveal his boxers-covered backside. She really _was_ getting impatient now. She needed to get lost in him again. She needed the sensations she knew all too well now. Or maybe she could stand to know them a little more.

With that thought in mind, the smirking assassin wrapped her legs around his hips and swung them both to the side, rolling him onto his back so that she was sitting in his lap.

"Pants off. Now," she chirped playfully, and his adorable giggle flooded her chest with warmth, her giddiness threatening to bubble over as she crawled down his body, dragging his jeans and boxers with her, taking them off and throwing them over the end of the bed. She flipped onto her back, arching her hips up to push her panties down her legs and shrug out of her flannel.

She left those wherever they fell and rolled over so that she was lying on top of him. Her breasts were pressed into his thighs as she curled her fingers around his erection and licked from the base of it to the tip, taking a few minutes to pleasure him, pumping, licking, and sucking as he grumbled deep in his chest."Sarah…" He groaned as she rounded him with her lips and sank her head down until he was deep in her mouth. She pulled him out again and looked up at him a little more shyly than she meant to. It was just that he was watching her with such genuine awe on his handsome features.

She climbed to her knees and scooted up his body, swinging her leg over to straddle him and guiding him inside of her. Chuck's hands settled on her thighs and he squeezed as she slowly rocked into his lap, leaning forward to brace her hands on his shoulders.

They continued that way for awhile, taking their time, enjoying. Sarah was determined not to rush, as badly as she wanted that finishing sensation, because she loved the look on Chuck's face as she rolled her hips down against his, pulling him in, her hands caressing his chest.

The rain lessened to a sprinkle outside of their sanctuary and then became a downpour again, but neither of them were aware of it, as lost as they were in each other, in this.

Sarah was drowning in the sensations, her hips grinding slowly, her weight sitting heavily in his lap. She let her head fall back, eyes shut, as she sighed his name.

He managed to surprise her then, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her torso, quickly swinging his weight to the side as she squeaked, ending up on her back with him leaning over her, still deep inside of her.

He chuckled as she flashed him a faux look of shock, and then he started thrusting into her, his thrusts long and hard. He tried to grab her legs to bend them up to her chest, but she escaped his hold and rolled over, pinning him against the mattress again.

She growled teasingly and leant down to kiss him, hungry for his taste, hungry to feel his curls in her fingers, and she ground herself down into his lap, her movements graceful and yet wild all at once.

Chuck pulled out of the kiss and cursed, reaching up to slam his fist against the headboard. His head fell back and he groaned, gently thrusting into her to meet her movements.

She made a frustrated little sound when he sat up again, lifting her with him, kissing her passionately. He didn't stop until she was on her back, this time with her head by the foot of the bed.

And he took advantage of her momentary surprise to tuck his arm under her leg and bend it back so that her knee was up by her chest. He leaned down to press their chests together and started sliding his body up and down over hers, making tight, mind blowing circles with his hips as he thrusted into her.

Sarah just about lost her mind, reaching up to push a hand into her hair and slapping the other onto his bicep. "Yes!" she cried out, whimpering his name, shutting her eyes and just focusing on how good everything felt.

She didn't try to get him on his back again, as fun as their wrestling for control had been. She let him have control, she relished what he did to her when he was in control.

The wild intensity of what he did to her lower half combined with the tender way he caressed her mouth, cheeks, hair with his lips would have made her wonder if she'd somehow died and ended up in Heaven…If she had enough control over her mind, granted. She currently didn't. Chuck had efficiently rid her of the ability she'd had to think clearly before he took her like this.

And he was taking her.

If she'd been lucid, she'd be forced to admit it.

She was being taken. Hook, line, and sinker.

As he made his thrusts even harder, the springs under them aching with his efforts, she opened her eyes in time to see Chuck reach up with the hand that wasn't holding her leg in place and press his palm flat against the headboard for leverage.

The harder he thrust, the louder her cries were, until finally, she felt that tell-tale buzz deep behind her belly button grow into an excruciating ache that was impossible to ignore.

"Almost…!" she gasped, whimpering encouragement at him, grappling for something to hold onto on his body and ending up clutching at the muscles in his back.

A few thrusts later, Sarah came, moaning loudly, covering her face with one hand and digging her nails into his back with the other.

They clung tightly, both of them breathing hard. Sarah buried her face in his neck, squeezing her arms around his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his waist and grinning, her eyes shut.

"Mmmmm," she moaned quietly, pushing a hand into his hair. And she had to bite her lip to keep from making a disappointed sound when he shifted to untangle their bodies, flopping onto his back next to her.

Sarah stayed staring at the ceiling, her arms and legs akimbo, a slow, lazy smile on her face. Now that she wasn't quite so distracted, thousands of things flooded into her brain, begging her to focus on them, but she continued shoving it all away, keeping her mind blissfully blank.

Chuck's hand landed on hers where it lay on the mattress, and then his fingers curled around hers, so warm and calming. She let herself get carried away, wondering if something so small and insignificant, someone holding her hand, had ever made her feel so safe.

She turned away from him then, slipping her hand out from his, that persistent voice in her head telling her she didn't deserve the safety Chuck Bartowski might provide. That was for some other woman, somewhere. Not her.

"You okay?" he asked behind her as she sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, wrapping herself up in the sheets as the cool air in the room made her shiver.

Sarah blinked and turned to glance at him. "Hm? Oh. Oh, yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't realize it was raining so hard." She pushed her hand through her hair and wrapped the sheets tighter around her, staring at the rain slamming against the glass of the bedroom window.

"Neither did I. Guess we were distracted."

She nodded as he crawled across the bed and appeared at her side, shifting his legs around to sit on the edge, his feet resting on the floor. She kept her eyes on the window, feeling her gaze try to settle in his lap magnetically.

Then she heard the click clicking of a cell phone and she looked over to see he'd somehow snagged his and was messing around on it. She waited patiently, watching him, charmed by the wrinkles between his eyebrows as he concentrated, the way his tongue poked between his lips just a little…almost like he was a cartoon character.

"Well, according to Apple weather, the rain isn't going to last much longer, and then clear skies for at least the next 10 days. It was just a few cloud bursts, seems like."

"Ah."

"And yes, yes we _are_ actually talking about weather after sex, so I'm not entirely sure what that means."

Sarah laughed and shook her head, scratching her chin with her hand bundled up in the sheets. "Not sure how to respond to that, honestly."

He chuckled and tossed his phone onto the bed, walking over to the dresser and opening a drawer, pulling out a pair of boxers and stepping into them. She actively avoided dropping her gaze to his erection underneath the cotton boxers, having to turn away completely to do so eventually.

"Want some coffee? I was going to ring for some. Or hot cocoa if you don't want all that caffeine. We can get cream with it. Mmmm. French hot cocoa. Whaddya say?"

She looked back up at his grin and smiled back with a soft giggle that made her shoulders bounce. "That actually sounds perfect."

"Great. Don't, uh, don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

And then he was gone. She could hear him talking to the person at the front desk, doing his best to get through the French that wasn't entirely necessary, considering how many languages the people at that desk could speak—English was certainly among them.

But she was a little proud of him for trying, still. He was the sort of tourist she felt locals shouldn't dislike. An American who wasn't entitled. Naive, sure. Maybe even a little unknowledgeable about certain things. But he was willing to learn and try.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Sarah climbed to her feet and let the sheets fall back to the bed, stretching so that she felt a couple of pops in her back and shoulders, rolling her head back and forth a little, and going into the bathroom.

She found a robe there and she shrugged it on for warmth, not bothering to pull her hair out of it, and instead wrapping it tightly around her figure and standing at the window to watch the rain.

What if Apple weather was wrong? What if it rained for the next few days? The rest of her time in Nice under a dark cloud and a deluge of frequent cloud bursts. It almost felt symbolic. Perhaps the gods were telling her that what she was doing here was wrong…That her spending her last days with a good man were upsetting the balance in the universe, or something.

Sarah heard Chuck come back into the room. "Oh. You're wearing it." She turned to frown at him in curiosity. "Do you, uh, do you happen to know where the second robe is? It isn't in the other room."

"It wasn't on the hook in the bathroom, either," she said. "Just this one."

"Oh. The hot cocoa is gonna be up here in a minute. I was gonna just throw on a robe to answer the door but I can—I'm gonna put on a T—shhhhiiiiit," he drawled, his eyes widening as Sarah smirked and slowly peeled the robe from her body, letting it fall away into her hand and walking close.

"You can use it," she chirped, getting way too much out of the way he looked at her. His face was flushed, all the way down to his chest. "Just don't bring the waiter in here."

"I'll, uh…ahem…I'll bring the tray in to you. How's that sound?" He plucked the robe from her fingers and shrugged it on just as there was a knock on the door. "Fast service, huh?"

Amused by how quickly he got over his shock and shyness, she giggled as he hurried into the other room, still tying the robe shut. And then she went to the bed and lifted the skirt, finding the other robe in a heap under it. She didn't have to wonder how it got there.

With a smirk, she picked it up and shook it a few times so that it looked good as new. By the time she heard the door shut again and Chuck appeared holding the silver tray of hot cocoa, milk, and cream, Sarah was wearing the second robe.

She bit her lip to keep him from realizing she'd noticed the flash of disappointment in his face when he saw her. Because she was covered again, no doubt. It was adorable how he tried to cover it up with a grin.

"Hot cocoa, French style. The purest milk from the purest happiest cows. And the richest chocolate you've ever had in…your…life," he dramatized, hissing through his teeth as he rushed over to the bed and set it on top. "I will say, be careful getting back on the bed. The chocolate won't taste as good if it's all over the sheets and mattress."

She laughed and walked over to the bed. "We're having hot cocoa in bed, huh?"

"Absolutely we are. I'm trying to seduce you, and how am I going to seduce you if we aren't in bed? That's the first rule to seducing a woman, Sarah, just FYI, in case you need to do this in the future…" She gave him a flat look that earned her a cheeky nose-wrinkling grin. "Get the woman near the bed. It triggers her lustful impulse."

"Oh God," she muttered, rolling her eyes at him. She could tell he was messing with her, but he was on a roll and it didn't seem like he was stopping anytime soon as he crawled onto the mattress.

"Then…you show her a bit of ankle." He lounged back against the pillows like some sort of sexy damsel and slowly pulled at the robe so that it slid up to reveal more of his leg.

A giggle burst out of her and she clamped her fingers down on her lips, crossing her arms and watching him.

"Some shoulder…" He dramatically tossed the robe back enough to reveal his collarbone and shoulder.

It was completely ineffective.

But he was adorably funny, and that, in and of itself, _was_ doing the job.

"Just drink your chocolate, Chuck." She grinned at him as she carefully joined him on the bed.

"But wait! The best part! The finishing touch." He leaned forward and grabbed the dome over a dish she hadn't noticed before, lifting it up to reveal strawberries. "The forbidden fruit. She can't resist. Sweet…tangy…the seeds stuck in her teeth…"

Sarah laughed outright at that, shaking her head and looking at him. "You know, there is no one like you in the whole world." She paused, aware of the fact that her smile dimmed a little, that her face was serious, her eyes soft, her voice incredibly sincere, almost in awe. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Yes, but I don't think they meant it as a compliment," he said after a long pause in which they looked one another in the eye.

She burst into laughter again as he watched with a pleased smile.

"No, seriously," he amended after a long moment, "Thank you. I appreciate that. Pretty sure you're one of a kind yourself, Sarah." He reached up to lazily pull at the lapel of her robe, dropping his hand back to the mattress again with a _floof_.

Sarah couldn't stop herself as she diverted her gaze, her lips turning down at the edges. "No. I'm not. Plenty of people out there just like me," she murmured. Robotic pawns of the government. Secret identity after secret identity. Following orders, coming back to base, getting more orders. Enforcers. She was even sure every country had people like her at their disposal. She'd gone toe to toe with a few during her career as a CIA assassin. And luckily she'd come out on top every time. Otherwise she wouldn't be here now.

She forced the voice that popped up saying 'You don't _deserve_ to be here now' out of her mind, and instead she shyly pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear, leaning forward to start fixing her drink. She poured the thick, dark chocolate into the small cup of hot milk and grabbed the long spoon to slowly stir it in.

Chuck sat up and followed suit, but she could feel him thinking of a response. "Well, what if I disagree?" he finally said.

She wasn't sure how to answer. He continued.

"I mean, maybe they're out there somewhere…All I'm saying is I've never met them. And I've met a lot of people."

The jerk voice in her head reminded her that he probably _had_ met someone like her, and he just didn't realize it at the time, just like he had no idea what kind of a person he was currently sharing a bed and hot cocoa with.

Sarah stirred her chocolate a bit faster and smiled at him, hoping it looked sincere.

He seemed satisfied with it and brought his cup to his lips, hissing and grunting, pulling it away with a wince. "Ow."

She giggled. "You okay?"

"Yeah. S'hot though, so…be careful." He blushed and she wanted to kiss him. But she didn't. Instead she let the creamy drink touch her lips just barely so that she could lick the taste off of them.

"Mmmmmm," she hummed. "That is yummy."

"Good idea?"

"Perfect idea."

"I have my moments."

Sarah looked over at him and smiled. "Yeah. You do."

They sat like that for an hour or so, refilling their cups with milk and pouring more chocolate in, until they were both satisfied, lying back against the pillows.

Eventually, Sarah wondered if she should see what time it was, if she should look at the clock, if she should go…

And then the woman in her, the one who'd watched Chuck playfully tease-seduce her an hour earlier, blocked that idea completely. She sat up again and climbed to her knees, grabbing the tray and leaning over the side of the bed to set it on the floor, out of the way.

Then she straightened up and turned towards him, towering over him as he laid back against the pillows beneath her. "First rule to seducing a man, Chuck, FYI," she added, lifting an eyebrow, "In case you need to do this sometime in the future." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Be a female…place yourself strategically somewhere in his general area…" She paused dramatically. "That's it," she said with a shrug. "It's that easy."

Chuck burst into laughter. "Oh come on! That's a low blow." He shook his head in faux-disappointment. "Wowwww, Sarah. That's how you feel about me? Good luck seducing _this_ …" He searched for a word for a second. "…Stud-muffin." She laughed. "Because I'm not havin' it. You blew it."

"I mean…" She dragged her eyes meaningfully down to focus on his lap. "Not yet. But if that's what you want…" She let her words sink in as his eyes slowly widened at her brazen come on.

Chuck gulped loudly and she bit her lip to keep from smirking at him.

She sent him a bit of a pout instead and then swung her leg over to straddle him, scooting up and leaning forward, not a single part of them touching as she moved her lips close to his ear. "What if I told you I'd do whatever you wanted me to? Would that change your mind?"

She heard him gulp again.

"And when I say that I mean…anything." She emphasized it by biting his earlobe gently.

Sarah thought she heard a soft growl, deep and low, but she couldn't be sure. She did feel his chest bump hers as he heaved in a deep breath. And then his hands tucked up under the hem of her robe and clutched her thighs tightly.

She lowered her weight into his lap, feeling the thick cotton of his robe and the thin cotton of his boxers against her sex as she ground herself against him. He _definitely_ growled this time, and she watched as his eyes flashed in lust, his jaw clenched.

He looked a little intense, almost crazed, for a moment, before he pulled the sash of the robe and shoved the garment off of her, tossing it towards the end of the bed and leaning in to pull her breast between his lips. Her voice came out in a high pitched, quick yelp, her intake of breath shaky, as she felt his teeth graze against her nipple.

Sarah helped Chuck push the robe he wore off of his shoulders, and then he had her crawl out of his lap so that he could push his boxers past his erection, kicking them off a little desperately before he dove at her, kissing her with wild abandon, his hands dragging over her nakedness.

She slid her own hands down to cup his backside, squeezing, pulling him closer, and he groaned.

Sarah gasped, pulling out of the kiss as his hand rounded to her front and tucked between her legs, his fingers sliding over her opening, rubbing her wetness slowly…excruciatingly slowly.

"Ahhh," she whimpered. "Chuck, yes…"

He leaned his forehead against hers and she stared at his face, so close she could taste his breath, noses nuzzling. He just kept rubbing her.

Then his brown eyes swirling with amber and purple—like damn sorcery, she swore—snapped open, and she feared for a hot second that he could see deep into her soul.

There was a question there. Like a 'Can I…?' And while she wasn't sure what exactly he was asking about, she gave him a quick nod, curious, excited, overwhelmed by her need for him.

She was surprised when he pulled her hand out from between her legs, grabbed her by her hips, and turned her over. Then he gently tugged her up. She automatically crawled up to her knees so that she was on all fours.

Sarah realized what was happening a moment later, and just as she felt raw, unbridled lust take over every last bit of her existence, she felt Chuck push into her from behind.

She couldn't bite back the lustful giggle, so breathless, surprised by his boldness, her surprise second only to overpowering need.

As he thrusted deep inside of her, his strong hands pulling her hips back into him, fingers digging into her skin, she cried out and reached up to smack her hand against the headboard, holding on like her life depended on it as he made his strokes long and hard.

Sarah found it was impossible to keep quiet, especially when he leaned down to lay his torso against her back, his arms wrapping around her lower stomach and tugging her against him. She felt his hot breath against her jaw as he whimpered her name.

Then he reached up and dropped one hand on hers on the headboard, holding on tight enough that she thought her hand might cramp up. But she didn't stop him. She dropped all defenses, spreading her legs a bit more on the mattress and rocking back into him.

He varied between lying against her back to wildly swing against her and kneeling with his torso vertical above hers, tugging her back into his thrusts.

She'd needed this. While there was still intimacy in this because she found sex wasn't possible with this man without it, this was wild, almost animalistic, a primal need to satisfy their lust. And she'd needed it so bad.

She didn't have to dwell on the deeper feelings, on the softness in his gaze as they joined, or the awe in his face as he looked up at her when she rode him. There were no gently breathed words of encouragement from his lips. No "You're perfect" or "you're amazing".

Just the explosive sensation of him inside of her, the fire that came from each spot where his fingers dug into her hips, his whimpers and groans.

It must have been a few minutes in when she felt herself shake with orgasm, her voice high pitched as she whimpered his name. He slowed his thrusts down, draping himself over her, hugging her so tightly, his hand snaking up to cover her breast and knead it.

Each gasp of air was tinged with a lusty moan.

And she gasped his name again when he straightened up, this time pulling her with him so that she was kneeling upright in front of him, their bodies still molded together, his cock still deep inside of her.

His mouth closed over her shoulder as he began to thrust hard into her again, each of his movements burying him so deep, pushing him against that special spot that sent her eyes rolling.

She cried out as she felt his teeth gently bite down on her fleshy skin at the crook of her neck, reaching back to tangle her fingers in his hair, tugging it with a ragged whimper as she heard him grunt with a wince.

This time when she came, she felt his hot seed as well, adding to the indescribable pleasure that coursed through her.

It took awhile for them to fall back onto the bed, with Sarah somehow ending up half draped over Chuck's back, her fingers drawing lazy patterns against his spine.

"One Hail Mary and two Our Father's," Chuck groaned, his voice muffled.

She giggled and pushed herself up from him with a moan of satisfaction, turning over to sit up and letting out a phew. The unbridled sexuality of it all had invigorated her, made her feel alive. And for once, she didn't feel all that guilty about it. He'd instigated it, first of all. And secondly, that was the least intimate, most explosive, wild, frenzied, and utterly raw half hour or so of sex she'd ever had. She felt _really good_ about it. And that damn pessimistic voice had been thoroughly muffled.

Without the heavy anvil of guilt in her gut she found she had after they had their usual intimate experiences, which were no less amazing, she had to add, but that damn debilitating guilt… Sarah climbed up from the bed and stretched again.

Chuck was silent as she went around finding her clothes strewn about. The amount of times she'd had to do this now in the last 7 days…She didn't care to count, for fear the guilt at her own lusty greed might crash down upon her again.

And as she slid her jeans up her legs and fastened them, she finally looked over to Chuck to see him pulling his boxers on as well.

"Are…Uh, are you walking me to the door?" she asked, biting her lip.

A thoughtful look came over his face as he glanced down at his feet for a second, and then it was gone as he met her gaze and smiled. "If you want me to. Absolutely."

"I do," she said quietly.

Chuck nodded and they walked out of the bedroom, through the rest of the suite to the door.

As Sarah reached for the door handle, though, Chuck's hand closed over hers, preventing her, and he was so close, his body heat enveloping her so comfortably on such a dreary and cold night.

"Can you stay?" he asked, his voice so quiet and so close.

Sarah swallowed thickly and looked up at him. "Stay? D-Do you mean…here? Sleep here?"

"Yeah. With me."

She couldn't. She shouldn't. They really really really shouldn't. This was a terrible idea. She wasn't doing this. She had to find a way to get out of it, to get back to her room, without hurting him. How could she do this without hurting him?

The amount of problems that could arise from this…

And they'd just finished having wild, hot sex that wasn't dripping with intimacy, and she'd felt so good about it, without the gut-wrenching guilt of knowing she was leaving soon.

And that was it, wasn't it? She was leaving soon. This couldn't happen. It would make things so much harder. She would feel so much worse. _He_ would feel so much worse, and that would just make everything…worse.

"Okay."

Shit.

* * *

Oh, honey...

Leave a review! Thanks for reading.


	16. A Sleepover and a Shower

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** Hi again. Sorry these chapters roll out so slowly. There's a lot going on, and I'm sure I'm not the only one having a hard time dealing with the world in general right now. But at least there's fan fiction. Really hope this is worth the wait for you all. :-)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

She was wide awake.

But she _had_ fallen asleep. And that was what startled her.

Sarah wasn't sure what time it was, but she knew it had been a few hours since he'd asked her to stay with him, to sleep in his bed, _with him_ … _all night_. "Okay," she'd said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like he'd asked her if she wanted pickles on her burger or something.

But the thing was, she'd never fallen asleep next to someone before. She'd never dared to. She was too careful. Agents who let their guard down were the ones she heard about in the hallways at Langley, the ones who ended up dead. And Sarah knew she'd let her guard down in a big way, made herself completely vulnerable to an attack.

She stared at the ceiling, wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers, the covers pulled up to her chin.

As they'd climbed into bed together, she'd thought of what she might do. Just lie there while he slept? Could she sneak out again once he fell asleep? She'd nixed that idea as he scooted close to her, careful not to take her in his arms like she knew he wanted to. It was awkward for a few moments. He'd seemed at a loss just like she'd been.

And she'd wondered if he regretted asking her. And did she regret it? No, she really didn't regret it. She couldn't make herself regret it if she tried.

Because the moment she'd decided to roll onto his side of the bed and entangle her body with his, feeling his warmth against her front and his arms tighten securely around her body, she'd felt really good.

She'd been grateful that he hadn't said anything, hadn't forced conversation. There was no deep discussion in the darkness of the bedroom. Just quietude and contentment.

And then she'd felt his breathing even out.

So, she'd thought at the time, then would start the waiting until morning, staring at the wall, watching him sleep maybe—although that was a little creepy.

She didn't know when it had happened, or how, but she'd fallen asleep as well.

Much to her surprise.

She was awake now, though. And she wasn't sure she'd fall asleep again. She and Chuck had broken apart in sleep and he was now on his side, facing away from her, close enough that she could reach out and touch him.

She didn't.

Instead she folded her hands together over her chest.

She'd driven herself half mad with terror as she'd climbed into bed with him, wondering if she'd seen her last sunset, wondering if after all of this time, the master assassin that was Chuck Bartowski would finally kill the rival assassin who'd fallen for his charms, let herself be manipulated into his bed where she'd fall asleep and let her guard down.

Ridiculous.

He was harmless.

And then he wasn't harmless.

Because while she knew he'd never do anything to hurt her physically, there was a lot of emotional danger in all of this. She already knew she'd gotten in way too deep. She'd fallen asleep in his arms. The comfort level she felt with him had surpassed what she thought she was even capable of. She had sought him out when she'd been feeling ill at ease, when she'd felt a loss of control.

And she'd never done that before. At least, not since over a decade ago when she'd needed her father and sought him out. He hadn't been there. In one way it hadn't been his fault. And in every other way, it had.

She couldn't let herself need this man sleeping beside her.

Only in the physical sense would she allow that.

Because the moment she needed someone in the emotional sense, she would get royally fucked over. So she repeated it in her head, over and over as she lay here staring at the ceiling still. She didn't need anybody. She didn't need anybody.

What she _did_ need was to make a damn decision. This was incredibly unhealthy, continuing to seek Chuck's company with such a massive thing hanging in the balance. Her life was hanging in the balance. Practically. Her future was, at least.

She could feel how different this was, though. Whether she needed him or not, whatever this was that had happened between them was something she'd never thought she was capable of.

The intimacy between them, the explosion that wasn't just lust like she'd had with other men she found hot before but something so much deeper…This wasn't within her character. The warmth, passion, and…happiness. No, it wasn't happiness. That wasn't something she'd ever needed or wanted before. Sure, there were plenty of moments in which she'd enjoyed life, but…happiness?

Was she happy in the times she spent with Chuck? Or was she just enjoying the moment? And mistaking it for happiness because lately that was something she…wanted? She wanted happiness. She really did.

The problem was that she was absolutely certain she didn't deserve it. And certainly not with this man.

The woman he deserved was the woman he thought she was. No, even that woman wasn't good enough for the likes of Chuck Bartowski. He deserved someone even better.

He deserved happiness that was purer. And less dangerous.

But how could she help wanting this? She was human, wasn't she? …Sometimes she was. Lately a little more than usual. She wanted to feel good and _God_ , did he make her feel so good. He drove her half mad he made her feel so good. And not just in bed, but with the way he looked at her sometimes. Or the way he seemed genuinely pleased when he made her laugh. Or how good she felt when something she said had him laughing.

The way she wanted to say nice things to him, if only to see that soft smile and the wrinkle in his brow. That hint of passion in his features when he called her beautiful. Or the fact that he was probably the only person on the planet capable of making her blush.

And when something makes you feel that good that often, it's only natural to want to be around that something as much as possible. That was why she was here. That was why she'd agreed to stay the night with him. And…God, that was why she'd fallen asleep as easily as she had, wasn't it? Almost like being with him made her feel like she hadn't a single care in the world.

 _That was so dangerous._

And yet, she wasn't budging.

She wasn't getting out of this bed, even though part of her was screaming at her to just do it. To just get out of here, disappear…let Chuck move on with his life and hate her if that was what it took for him to find someone else and be as happy as he deserved to be.

Nope.

At least not yet.

This was the first time she'd considered sleeping with someone. Actual sleeping, not sex. And she thought maybe she owed it to herself to see it through. She'd taken huge strides in separating herself from the mechanical existence she'd had for so many years of her life. A lot of them had come since Chuck made his way into her life with some really bad and yet still very cute attempts at speaking French, but not all.

As she felt a spike of fear go through her at the realization of just how much and how quickly she was changing, and how much of it had to do with her, versus how much it had to do with Chuck, the subject of much of her pondering shifted in his sleep.

She turned her head to watch him as he let out a soft grumble and turned onto his back so that she could see his profile. But he didn't stop there, rolling even further towards her, a hand reaching out for her unconsciously.

The assassin wasn't sure what to make of that. He was reaching for her in his sleep. She was afraid of what it meant. But she wasn't afraid of the way heat trickled out from her heart and started to fill the colder places in her body, until she was simply infused with warmth.

The moment Chuck's fingers landed on her stomach, he squirmed amidst the sheets and his brow furrowed. There was confusion there, she thought. And then his eyes blinked open and slowly lost the cloudiness. In the dark of the room, she watched his gaze settle on her.

His fingers wandered under the hem of his shirt she was wearing where it rode up against her belly, his touch so soft, his hand warm. She reached up and put her hand on the shoulder that was nearest her, feeling the warmth of his skin radiate through the T-shirt he wore.

Deafening silence was broken by his soft sigh. She didn't say anything. She couldn't. Something was happening, though. Something inside of her. And she mistook it for something she was more comfortable with.

She nibbled her lip and saw his eyes flick down to stare before sliding back up to meet her gaze.

The crackle between them became a roaring fire, and then they surged together like a rubber band that's pulled tighter and tighter, before being let go, the ends snapping together almost violently.

That was what it felt like to Sarah.

With maybe a little less violence.

But his lips were incredibly insistent, his hands cupping her head. And he shifted on the bed until he was half on top of her, dragging his lips down her face to her neck and shoving his arms under her torso to cradle her close. She wrapped her arms around him and clung, sighing at the feeling of his lips on her skin.

They took their time, in direct contrast to what had happened the night before. She felt the adrenaline, the rush of need and lust, but there was something different there. She didn't notice it, willfully wrapping a leg around him and turning them both over so that he was on his back. She sat in his lap looked down at him for a moment.

He grinned tiredly up at her and rested his hands on her thighs, stroking up and down her leg, slowly…excruciatingly slowly.

Sarah pulled the shirt she wore up her body and tugged it off over her head, dropping it on the floor and watching as his eyes swept up and down her torso, before draping her body over his and kissing his neck, scooting down enough to thrust her groin against the bulge under his boxers.

He groaned as she continued her thrusts, slipping his fingers under the boxers she'd borrowed from him, snapping the waistband to make her giggle.

They undressed one another, taking their time, rolling back and forth over the mattress, and when she finally sank down onto his cock, straddling him from above, she felt herself drift off into a realm of undeniable bliss. Everything that was broiling in her mind flitted off somewhere and she was left only with desire, and how best to make him feel _everything_ she wanted him to feel.

She held onto the headboard and worked her body hard, arching her back, swinging her hips, varying her rhythm, her pattern. She tried to be unpredictable, reveling in the surprised gasp of awe or the pleased chuckle he emitted. And then he would give her a dose of her own medicine, jerking his hips, bumping her, or touching her in a certain way.

They lost track of time.

Nothing else mattered to Sarah but what was happening in that moment, in that bed, in the darkness of that room.

Eventually her body shook with release as she hunched over him, and she lowered herself to lie on top of him again, rolling onto her back and tugging him with her, urging him to keep going, meeting his thrusts with her own.

And as passionate as it continued to be, the intimacy between them was rivaled by pure enjoyment. She was having fun in his arms, laughing as he teased her, teasing back, engaging in a few wrestling matches that were almost challenging enough that it caused a spike in how turned on she was, upping her adrenaline. She won each time, save for the one time she let him win to be a good sport, and by the look on his face, the way his body hummed under hers, he was enjoying losing to her.

It made her crazy with lust, and she ignored the underlying emotions. This was a man who practically got off on her power, on her strength. He was in awe of it, sometimes amused by it, and never _ever_ intimidated by it. She was too focused on him to let her next thought throw her off her game, but part of her wondered if this man could be trusted with her secret after all, if he was a man who wouldn't be frightened or run away if he knew what she did, what she was capable of.

She shook again, her climax causing her to emit a high-pitched gasp of ecstasy into his hair as she clung to him. And then she panted a breathy, "Keep going, Chuck. Please keep going."

And he did, thrusting his arms under her back to grab onto her shoulders and practically going to town on her.

Much like the night before, she felt pure, unadulterated lust overtake them both. And the slow pace, the intimacy, the face to face stares and smiles quickly faded to clenched jaws, gritted teeth, and grunts of ultimate pleasure as the grace and beauty of their coupling made way for nails scratching and teeth biting. Their bodies lurched together, jerking, the wrestling for control a little rougher.

When she came a third time, she didn't have to ask him to continue. He drove into her even harder as she cried out her pleasure, the waves still spilling through her as he shifted her legs to prop them on his shoulders.

Her fists twisted in the sheets at her hips as she watched him through narrowed eyes. Chuck's handsome features were pinched in ecstasy, and she could see his face reddening, his shoulders hunching and muscles tightening.

When she felt him come, she rode it out, rocking up into him as best she could at the awkward angle, but when he lowered her legs back to the mattress and pulled out of her, she pushed him onto his back again and slid down his body, the sheets tangled at their ankles. She buried him in her mouth, and kept him there for quite some time, tasting him, teasing and groping him, until he was hard again.

Without even taking a breath, they were back together, clinging, gyrating, growling, working through the aching muscles, ignoring the twinges, not caring that each of them were panting hard.

The room slowly lightened as the sun began to rise hours later. And when they finally stopped, their bodies so spent that they could barely move, Chuck somehow found enough strength to roll himself half on top of her, his breath hot and sexy against her neck that was damp with sweat. And they fell asleep again, still tangled together, Sarah's mind blissfully empty save for how delicious his weight felt on top of her.

—

She knew it had to be late morning, most likely.

And the clouds must have eventually left because she could feel a beam of heat from the sun against her bare back.

She also knew she wasn't alone in bed. For the first time in… _ever_ , really…the assassin was waking up in a bed with someone else. She'd slept with him. They'd _slept together_.

And he was still here.

Moreover, she was still alive.

In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd been _this_ alive.

A slow smile grew on her face as she felt him shift on the mattress next to her. Was he awake, too? Or just moving in his sleep? She was too lazy to open her eyes just yet, though. She didn't have to. There was no reason to. So she wouldn't.

She was warm in spite of not wearing a single shred of clothing. The sheets were bunched up at her waist, and one foot poked out over the edge of the mattress.

But she didn't want to move.

Mostly because she wasn't sure if she even _could_ move. Her limbs had that post-workout ache in them that always reminded her that she was getting stronger. Not only was she getting stronger, but there was such an insane thrill in her, still leftover from early this morning when they'd essentially ravaged one another for hours until they physically couldn't anymore.

Her slow smile became a grin then, because she felt Chuck move again, and this time his lips were against her shoulder. He was definitely awake.

"G'morning," she drawled, her voice scratchy and a little muffled by the pillow.

"Oh, hey," he drawled back, his lips at her ear, kissing her temple, moving into her hair, and then he dove in to kiss her neck slowly. "Sleep well?"

All she could do to answer was let out a long, satisfied hum that turned into a happy giggle when his teeth teasingly clamped down on her shoulder. "I get you probably worked up quite the appetite this morning, Chuck, but please don't eat me."

He laughed softly, his chest bouncing against her arm as he draped himself over her back and cuddled close. "If I ate you, who would I hang out with for the rest of my vacation?"

"Exactly," she murmured, fighting to keep from dwelling. She didn't want to let thoughts of her impending decision and her potential disappearance from this place with no warning for the man currently nibbling on her earlobe ruin the happiness and contentment of the morning.

So she pushed it away.

Agent Walker had fallen asleep in bed with a guy, and had woken up a better person for it the next morning. If that was even possible. It had to be possible, because it happened. She felt so good. Like she was untouchable.

And maybe she knew how dangerous it was to feel that way, especially for someone who worked in the field for the CIA, regularly making enemies wherever she went, having to strap weapons to her body for every situation—even just going down the street to get a coffee. But she still felt that way.

In spite of the danger, he made her feel safe. So safe.

And he squeezed her arms comfortingly in his large hands almost as though he could hear her thoughts.

She shifted under him then, and he moved a little, letting her roll onto her back and into his warmth, her hands landing on his biceps. She dragged one of them down his body to tuck under the sheet at his waist, drawing a slow circle on his hipbone.

The soft murmur of satisfaction from him made her smile.

He was so scraggly in the morning, and she supposed she'd never actually seen a man like this. She'd never stayed long enough to. She didn't regret it, though. She hadn't wanted that with them. There was something so pure and innocent about this particular man in the morning.

Chuck looked so disarmingly vulnerable, with his hair sticking up everywhere, his eyes heavily lidded and a bit puffy, the scruff on his face from not shaving yet, the lack of proper alertness. And she had never wanted to protect anybody in her life as much as she wanted to protect him.

The way he ever so tenderly brought two fingers up to gently maneuver her hair away from her eyes made that desire to protect him increase exponentially.

She understood, then. She got why people did this. There was something so intimately binding about waking up next to someone. Both of them were so vulnerable, tired, bedraggled…

She was more herself in this moment than she'd ever been. And instead of being scared, she felt…Whatever the opposite of empty was. The opposite of alone.

Sarah didn't say anything to him. Instead she leaned up, propping herself on her elbow, and cupped him by the back of his head, pulling him down for a warm, slow kiss.

His face was scratchy, but she kept kissing him, teasing his lips with her tongue until he opened his mouth and gave her full access.

Sarah slowly pushed both arms around him then and clung, her torso hovering over the mattress as he held her to him with one hand, the other propping both of them up.

And then he removed that arm and they both fell to the bed with a satisfying thump, Sarah letting out a giggle and pulled back to take a deep breath. He took the opportunity to press his lips to her skin under her jaw, moving down lower and lower, making her giggle even more. And then his mouth closed around one of her nipples and he gifted her with a glorious long stroke of his tongue over her sensitive nub.

Just as Sarah arched her hips up against him in a totally unsubtle hint, ignoring the slight ache in her muscles from before, there was a sharp, loud knock on the door to Chuck's suite in the other room.

Chuck halted mid-groan, his voice strangled in his throat, it sounded like.

He pulled his mouth away from her breast and looked down at her, his brow furrowed.

"Room service?" she asked.

"I didn't—"

 _Knock! Knock! KNOCK KNOCK!_

"Chuck?"

Chuck's body froze over hers as the feminine voice called him. She could hear it even while lying here an entire room away from the door.

"Chuck, are you in there? You awake?" came the muffled voice.

She knew inherently it was Ellie. It didn't take a genius to figure that out with how rapidly Chuck leapt off of her, scrambling from the bed and standing there, looking back and forth as he figured out what to do. He was both alarmed and completely naked, it had to be said.

Sarah took the initiative, carefully swinging herself out of bed and scanning the floor for something to put on.

But then Chuck was there with her clothes clumped up in his hands, her bra, panties, shirt, jeans, even her socks. And then she was being hastened towards his bathroom. "Be right there!" he called over his shoulder even as he walked her to the shower and gestured for her to get in.

She did so, biting her lip to keep from laughing, even as she shared in his alarm. And then he slid the curtain shut to further cloak her presence in his suite.

A few moments later, as she stood there in the shower, totally naked and holding her clothes in a ball against her chest, she heard Chuck open the door in the other room.

"What the hell took you so long?" she heard his sister say as the door shut again. He'd let her inside, then. That was smart. She had to be intelligent and observant, considering what Chuck had said about her so far, and she was a neurosurgeon, after all. If Chuck ushered her away without letting her in, she'd definitely be suspicious.

"I was asleep!"

"It's, like, 10:30, Chuck," Ellie droned. "I know for a fact, you're up and at 'em at like…8 at the latest."

"9," he argued. "But I'm on vacation. Doesn't a guy deserve a nice lazy morning in bed when he's on vacation?"

"Of course he does. _You_ do. You're always overworking yourself at home which is why I wanted to invite you on this trip in the first place. I'm just surprised, that's all. You must have really been enjoying yourself, if you stayed in bed _this late_."

"I _definitely_ was."

Sarah lifted her fist to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles, grinning madly. Even at this moment, when Ellie's appearance had startled him and made him incredibly nervous, he was being cheeky. Part of Sarah thought he maybe knew she could hear all of this and was specifically saying it for her.

"Well, good. Glad to hear you're taking this vacation thing seriously and not slaving away on SOLO stuff."

"I…Actually, I'm not sure I've done anything work-related this whole time. Be proud of me."

She laughed. "Okay. Well. You ruined it by telling me to be proud of you."

"Damn it!" She laughed again. "So, uh…What's up? What's goin' on?"

"Uhhhh I haven't seen my brother in awhile, and he's literally half the reason I took this trip in the first place. The hell you been doing? Avoiding me on purpose?"

"No! Of course not. But I want you and Awesome—"

"Devon."

"—to have the nice romantic experience of having a couple's vacation instead of worrying about me tagging along like a ready-made cockblock," he continued as though Ellie hadn't corrected him at all. Sarah wondered if that was the routine with these two; Ellie correcting Chuck every time he called her boyfriend 'Captain Awesome' and him totally ignoring her.

"Wait, wait…Did you just call yourself a cockblock?"

"I did. Yeah."

"Hold on. Because that means you are actively acknowledging the fact that I am a woman with physical needs, and that I satisfy those needs with the man I'm engaged to."

"Oh Godddd, Elliiiiiiie."

"No, no. This is big. _Huge_ even. I'm so proud of my grown up boy." She feigned a sniff and Sarah shut her eyes tightly, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Fine, fine," she relented, and Sarah imagined Chuck must have given his sister a significant look that made her drop the teasing. "I came over to drag you to brunch. You have no choice. Devon's busy and I'm hungry and I want to hang out with my brother."

He chuckled. "What's Devon up to? He's not talking someone through doing a heart surgery on the phone while he's on vacation, is he? That's a malpractice suit waiting to happen."

That made her laugh. "No! His parents called. Well…Honey, in particular."

Sarah could hear in the woman's voice that she probably didn't have a great amount of admiration for her future in-laws.

"Oh, he's talking to Honey? I love Honey. She's so…"

"Real Housewives of Beverly Hills?"

"Yep," he chirped.

Ellie snorted.

"Alright, let's do brunch then," Chuck said. "But only if you promise not to take me to a brunch _buffet_. You're so embarrassing at those places." Sarah heard a loud smack. "Ow! I was just kidding!"

"You deserved that."

And she was right, Sarah mused, he _did_ deserve it. The assassin had no problem admitting she might like this woman already.

"Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes, okay? I have to get on the phone and let Honey know that my vacation in Nice is exponentially better than whatever country club wine party she's no doubt blabbing about to my fiancé right now."

Chuck laughed. "Damn, you're feisty today."

"I'm feisty every day," she chirped. "Anyways, see you soon. Don't be late, I'm freaking starving."

"I won't, I won't."

"Good."

Sarah heard the door shut, and mere moments later she heard the sound of Chuck rushing into the bathroom. He yanked the curtain back.

The look of pure amusement that must've been on her face greatly contrasted with the concern and regret on his.

"Oh my God, Sarah, I am _so sorry_."

"…What? Why?"

"I shouldn't have done that. I just acted like a freaking high schooler whose mom is about to bust in and find him in bed with his girlfriend. Seriously, I'm sorry."

"Chuck, it's okay." She giggled at him, taking his hand so that he could help her out of the shower.

"No, it isn't. I shoved your clothes at you and pushed you into the shower. It was incredibly rude."

"No, it wasn't! I get it, Chuck. You don't want your sister meeting me like this. It would've been a lot worse for me especially than standing in the shower for a few minutes."

He covered his face and groaned, almost as if he hadn't even heard her words. So she rolled her eyes and shifted her clothes into one arm, grabbing his hand with the other and leading him out into the bedroom again.

"I'm sorry," he repeated one more time. "Seriously, Sarah."

"I know, and if it makes you feel better to hear it, I forgive you. I also think your sister is pretty funny."

That got him to lose the wince on his face, and instead he rolled his eyes and smirked. "Yeah, she thinks she's pretty hilarious."

"She isn't any worse than you are in that respect."

His jaw fell open and then he laughed as she grinned cheekily at him.

Sarah carefully stepped into her underwear, pulling them up her legs and eyeing him as he watched a little closer than maybe he knew. She didn't exactly mind.

"So I guess we don't get to finish what we started, huh?" he asked, regret in his voice as he pouted and tilted his head.

She smiled, putting her hand on his chest that he'd covered with a white T-shirt between pushing her into the shower and opening the door for his sister. "No," she answered. "But that's okay. You need to spend time with your sister for once."

"I've spent plenty of time with her," he answered with a shrug.

She pulled her jeans on and finally shrugged her shirt on over her bra, buttoning it up, all the while giving him a doubtful look.

"Okay, fine. I've spent _some_ time with her."

Sarah giggled and pat his chest again, sweeping past him and walking into the other room. She felt him close on her heels. And as she neared the door, she felt a sweeping sense of gloom settle over her.

As her hand settled on the doorknob, he caught up to her, his hands on her hips, his lips pressed to her temple from behind. She turned in his arms and hugged him tightly, kissing his jaw and shutting her eyes for a moment.

She wanted to keep this in her memory. His arms around her, the warmth of him, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against hers as he breathed. The way she felt in his embrace.

And then he ducked his head and kissed her. It lasted a long time, and Sarah fought the urge to pull away for a long while. Because she needed it, didn't she? She needed to feel him kiss her like this in case…

Well, just in case.

She refused to think the rest of her thought, and finally did pull back. "You'll be late. And your sister said not to be late."

He grumbled and she giggled. And then she stepped out of his arms and opened the door. Before she could leave, however, Chuck shoved in front of her and peeked down the hallway, first right, then left, making a show of it before he ducked back and nodded confidently. "All clear."

Sarah grinned at him one last time and gave him a quick kiss, feeling his stubble under her hand as she put it on his cheek. She memorized that, too.

And then she slipped past him in the hallway and kept walking. She didn't turn and look back. She just kept moving.

* * *

There is some really good stuff coming up next. I think a lot of you might get what you've been asking for in your reviews. And speaking of reviews, please leave me some. It's feeding my muse. Thank you!

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	17. Last Dance

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** I'm still here.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

One thing was for sure.

Agent Sarah Walker, assassin with the CIA, couldn't continue to indulge in this romance. Not before she made her decision. Decision Day was tomorrow. In less than 24 hours, in fact.

She drowned the sinking feeling with a large gulp from her second piña colada, ignoring anyone else who stepped up to the small cabana bar by the hotel pool, instead staring down at the counter and staying entrapped in her own thoughts.

She knew she was being melodramatic. She felt it.

And she did nothing to stop herself.

Instead she indulged in the melodrama. How often in her career—how often in her _life_ —had she ever allowed herself to be melodramatic? She always had to be on task about everything, take the punches and move on, survive.

Not today.

Today she would sulk.

Because, in all likelihood, she'd walked away from Chuck Bartowski for the last time.

This time tomorrow, she might be on a plane headed for some far off place. And she couldn't afford to do now what she did last night. The continued indulgence. Indulging in melodrama was fine. She wasn't harming anybody else doing that.

But her repeated inability to deny herself that incredibly kind, warm-hearted, funny, and unfairly sexy man would have consequences. And some of those consequences involved him. It wasn't fair to him to keep doing this.

And it wouldn't do her any good to keep spending time with him, to let him continue to get deeper and deeper inside of her. Chuck would end up being the biggest reason why she made her decision and that was a very bad thing. The rest of her life couldn't hinge on a man she'd only met a little over a week ago. Because when she changed her mind about him, or he changed his about her, whenever that would be in the future, she might step back and realize how much she missed the spy world, her job that she was so good at and she would resent him.

Sarah hated the idea of Chuck being the main recipient of that behavior.

She drained the rest of her piña colada and thunked the cup down on the bar top.

As much as she knew she should regret staying in his suite, in his bed, overnight, she just couldn't. And she hated herself for not being able to bow out and do the right thing. She needed to let him be.

It was just that she wanted it so much—the feeling that she got this morning when he brushed her hair from her face, that early-morning comfy look of him, the way he looked at _her_ with the wrinkle between his brow like he thought she was beautiful, even in her own early-morning state.

Nothing felt better than being wrapped around that man.

And she hadn't wanted to walk away from it last night. Just one more taste of that forbidden fruit…

She sighed and let her shoulders sag, biting her lip to keep it from quivering. She couldn't let her sulking and melodrama turn into self-pity, however. She didn't pity herself. She was well aware of just how little she deserved the man she'd spent so much time with over this last week.

And that was why she walked away this morning with every intention of not going back.

She heard a splash and a loud squeal behind her, followed by laughter, and she glanced over her shoulder. A stereotypical family was perched at the edge of the pool, the child's hair braided with barrettes that matched her orange floaties, and the dad carefully easing himself into the pool next to her. The woman stayed on the cement, peering down at who Sarah assumed were her child and was such a normal thing, a dad teaching his daughter to enjoy the water, a mom making her child and husband laugh by making faces. This child would grow up having good feelings about water, about the pool, about her parents.

And then Sarah was plunged headfirst into a memory of her own.

Sitting in a motel room for hours while her dad followed one of his marks. When he had promised her he'd take her swimming. She'd struggled to pull on her bright green, one piece bathing suit and padded out by herself to the pool. It had already been dark by then, and nobody had seen her. So when she slipped on a puddle some swimmer had left earlier and toppled into the water, she'd been sure nobody had seen that, either.

Someone had, though. A teenager who'd been working part time in the motel's laundry room had been walking past when he saw the neon bathing suit disappear into the pool and he'd reached down and plucked her up before she got too much water in her lungs.

The hotel staff had threatened to call the police once her dad returned, but he'd sweet talked them, quickly packed up their things, and they moved on again, switching the license plates just in case. She'd gotten yelled at in the car, she remembered. She'd thought it was her fault and she'd sobbed. And then he'd made her better with a lollipop and a promise that he'd buy her a pony with the prize daddy scored.

What in the hell was she thinking?

Her shoulders slumped even more as she gestured to the bartender and signaled for a third drink. He didn't question, he didn't look at her funny, he just nodded and set to making another.

She wanted to know if she could live a normal life…

Of course she couldn't.

Not with fucked up stories like that. And that wasn't even the worst of it. There were things _she'd_ done herself that were so much worse than what her father had done. The sweet family at the pool was a bit of normalcy she would never achieve—more than that, it wasn't anything she could ever deserve. There weren't enough years left in her life to make amends for what she'd done in her first 26.

The bartender put her third piña colada down in front of her then and she pulled it closer, taking a long sip that gave her a brain freeze. She winced and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, feeling the alcohol catching up to her now. Good.

Or maybe not good.

Because as she glanced over her shoulder, she saw the man she'd left a few hours ago push open the gate to the pool area and walk in. Luckily he turned away to hold it open for a couple who were exiting, grinning as they thanked him. It gave her time to turn to the bartender and gesture madly for him to clear away the two empty glasses. He rushed over and grabbed them as she turned to watch Chuck again. He started along the cement path around the pool and his gaze lifted to meet hers. There was a hitch in his step. Then a wide smile swept over his face and he quickened his pace.

"Wow. Fancy meeting you here," he said as he neared her.

She felt dizzy. She was flooded with relief, but also regret. She was so glad to see him, after she'd thought maybe she might never see him again, and at the same time, she knew how much easier it would've been if he hadn't seen her at all.

"Yeah, uh…bit of a midday colada. You know." She took a subtle but deep breath, fighting the buzz in her head, forcing herself to stay focused. Focus was key.

"Smart, smart. Since the sun is out."

"Yep. Exactly."

Sarah was aching. She could've gotten drunk on good old fashioned wine in her own damn suite. It would've been cheaper. And she wouldn't be standing here with him. But she was so glad she was standing here with him.

She was so confused, trying so hard to stay God damn _focused_.

"I was actually just going to call you, as a matter of fact," he said, leaning against the bar next to her.

"Oh?" Would she have been strong enough to watch his name pop up on her phone and not answer it? Or would she have caved and picked up? She didn't know.

"Yeah, um…I, uh…" He huffed and ducked his head, his smile more of a wince than anything. "I did something you might not like."

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she couldn't think of anything he might do that she wouldn't like. But that was too much innuendo for public and for this situation, so she stayed quiet and instead tilted her head in question.

"I…" He fully winced. "I told Ellie. About you." He braced himself for her disdain.

Shit. Shit shit shit. She thought she was in too deep before, but the water had just risen above her head. She was drowning. She was in deep trouble. She dug into her bag of spy tricks and kept her face immovable, however.

"I couldn't keep it from her anymore," he continued when she didn't respond. "I mean, me and El, we don't—We don't keep secrets from each other. And this morning, I was such an idiot. I mean, I hid you in the shower when she knocked on the door." Sarah noticed out of the corner of her eye that the bartender turned to give them a look at that and she sent him a subtle glare that made him spin back to the sink as Chuck continued talking. "That was ridiculous behavior. Inexcusable. I just…I felt like crap lying to her. And having her be that close to finding out about you…I just know that she'd be really upset if I was seeing someone and she found out about it in any other capacity than my telling her." He huffed again, looking almost upset. "I hope you're not mad at me."

"Chuck, no!" She wasn't mad at him. She didn't blame him. She couldn't. He had nothing to hide, and he didn't know who she was— _what_ she was. Why should he feel like it was necessary to keep her a secret from his sister, especially with how close they apparently were?

But she _was_ upset. Not at him. Just…in general. She'd let this go for too long. This was proof.

"I'm not mad at you," she continued, putting a hand on his arm. "I understand. She had to know eventually. Better you tell her than she…" Sarah leaned in a bit closer, not wanting the bartender eavesdropping. "…walks in on us."

Chuck turned magenta. "Uh…ex-exactly. That would be…" He shook his head and shivered. "God, that'd be awful. She'd be so pissed at me. I mean, we're talking _my sister_. Anytime she hears I've met with a woman in _any_ way, shape or form, Ellie practically puts on a parade."

That made Sarah laugh. "So she's like that, is she?"

"Very. Don't get me wrong, I know she's just doing it because she loves me, but she and I don't have the same…dating DNA." The assassin raised an eyebrow. "I mean, she is a very different dater than I am. She went through a lot of guys in high school, and I don't mean that in a disrespectful way. I just mean, she was never all that serious about any of them. She liked having fun, meeting a lot of people…Until she met Awesome. Obviously."

"Well, he _is_ Awesome."

"He is. Which…ahem, segue," he said in a sing-songy voice. "You might get to see for yourself, should you agree to my proposition." He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth in yet another wince as Sarah felt her eyes widen. "Well, Ellie's proposition, more like."

"Proposition?"

"Ellie was so excited to hear I was…erm…seeing someone here…She invited you to dinner tonight."

"Like a…double date?" Sarah asked, her chest aching with nerves. Her fingers tingled, and she was sure it wasn't the drinks.

"You really don't have to if you think it's a little…a little intense. I completely understand. I get it totally. And Ellie would totally understand, too. She proposed dinner and then immediately was like, 'Oh if she doesn't feel comfortable, tell her it's totally fine!' So we're all—I mean, it's _so_ up to you…"

This was a terrible, no-good, God awful idea. Dinner with Ellie and Captain Awesome? First of all, she was scared to meet the woman who meant _so much_ to Chuck, the woman who had practically raised him if she'd understood his story correctly. Secondly, she didn't want to have Ellie counting on her to bring her brother ultimate happiness. That was such a huge expectation, a huge weight on her shoulders. And if Ellie was as intense as she sounded…

But she wanted to meet her, didn't she? And she wanted to meet the sincerely happy, kind guy Chuck called Captain Awesome.

She just couldn't. She couldn't. She had to say no.

But Chuck was still talking. He wouldn't stop.

"I just think that…that in spite of Ellie being a little…much, sometimes, I am, too. I can be a little much myself. If anything, she's even more socially acceptable than I am. Not that that's saying much—"

Sarah moved to her tip toes and slid her hands up to cup his face, leaning in to kiss him and…Well, she needed him to stop talking. And this was the nicest way she could think to do it.

But just as their lips brushed, there was a loud clearing of the throat behind Chuck.

He froze, and Sarah froze along with him.

And then he spun around. "Ellie! Uh…Hey."

"Sorry, Chuck. I didn't mean to interrupt…" Sarah stepped to the side a little so that she could see Ellie, spotting the wince on the brunette's face. And then the woman's green eyes flicked over to the side and the wince became a wide-eyed look, almost like she was startled, "Oh my God!"

Sarah jumped at that.

"I'm so sorry!" Ellie put her hands out placatingly, chuckling and shaking her head at herself. "I didn't mean to yell, I'm just—Dear God, Chuck, you did _not_ do her justice." Sarah felt Chuck bristle next to her as she stepped forward, her arm brushing his. "Oh, no! No, I didn't mean it like—He actually said you were like Vicki Vale but a lot more beautiful, which is a really nice thing to say. You're just _that_ gorgeous that I don't think his description did you justice."

Sarah blushed sincerely and ducked her head, laughing. She was incredibly amused and flattered, but also embarrassed by the other woman's gushing.

The more she spoke, the more Sarah saw in her face that she was actively despising herself for the way it was all coming out.

Like brother, like sister.

"Ellie…" Chuck interrupted softly. "Maybe, um, tone it down."

"I'm toned down. I'm good. I'm so sorry," she finished in an embarrassed hiss, mostly at Chuck, who shut his eyes in mortification and pressed his lips together. But then Ellie pat his chest with a barely subdued grin. "I'm so proud of you," she said out of the corner of her mouth, as though Sarah couldn't hear it. And Chuck looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"I'm Ellie," she said, outstretching her hand.

"Sarah. Nice to meet you." Sarah took the hand and squeezed it.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea. I mean, nice to meet you, too." Ellie pulled back again, looking liable to burst. "So, uh…are we…doing dinner tonight?" The sister sent her brother a meaningful look, one Sarah was sure she wasn't supposed to see. But she was a spy. She saw it loud and clear.

Chuck was silent for too long, and the silence was too much for Sarah to bear…

"Yes. We are."

 _Oh Sarah,_ a voice in her head clucked in disappointment, _You stupid, stupid girl._

Chuck turned to look at her, his eyebrows lifting a little in surprise. But he was smiling, too, and she clung to that pleased smile and told her inner voice to go fuck itself. She had to at least get past this conversation. And she was slightly drunk, for God's sake.

And Ellie…

Well, she was downright _glowing_.

"Oh, good. He asked. I was afraid he wouldn't ask, and then he would tell me he did and that you said no."

"What?" Chuck clipped, giving her a thoroughly annoyed look. Sarah was trying so hard not to laugh. She definitely liked Ellie Bartowski, even if this was a highly uncomfortable conversation.

"What? That is something you'd do. Don't lie."

"I'm not—"

Suddenly Sarah felt someone behind her. Before she could react, a man even taller than Chuck wearing board shorts and a polo swept around her shoulder. "Hey, Chuckster! Glad you're out here, man, I was just about to get us beers."

"Hi, Devon," Chuck drawled, wincing. Like he knew what was coming.

"Oh, good. Devon." Ellie grabbed at her fiancé's shirt and pulled him into her side. "Devon. Sweetie." She pat his chest, barely restraining her glee. "Devon, this is Sarah. The Sarah I told you about."

His blue eyes fell to the assassin and widened significantly. And then his teeth, white as the purest snow, shone in the biggest smile Sarah thought she'd ever seen in her life. Like his face might break any moment. "CHUCK, YOU DEVIL, I NEVER DOUBTED YOU!" he boomed.

"Oh, God," she heard Chuck murmur. He sounded like he was in agony, and as bad as she felt for him, Sarah was on the verge of sincerely hard laughter.

"I mean, holy shit, bro." He moved from Ellie's side and swept Sarah up in a tight, strong hug. She didn't think she'd ever met anyone stronger than this guy. His arms were pure muscle. He stepped back and grinned hard again. "Hi, I'm Devon. Bro's soon to be bro-in-law. Sure you've heard about me."

"I have, yes. Hi," she chuckled, shaking his hand. Hug first, handshake second? Interesting. But she wasn't entirely put off by it. "Sarah."

"Oh, I know. Yes. Wow. Dude. Chuck. Yes." He pointed at him and fixed him with an I'm Proud Of You look.

Chuck was pink all over. It was adorable.

And because she could be cruel sometimes, Sarah folded her hands behind her back and cutely bounced up onto her toes. "I've heard I'm actually kinda nice, too. On top of…well, this." She swiveled her pointer finger in a circle around her face.

Devon burst into laughter, rocking forward and pointing at Sarah. "I like you already. I like her already," he said, turning to Ellie. Then he turned back to Sarah. "You have to be nice to have our boy Chuck _this_ googly."

"Really, Awesome? Man, c'mon."

Devon shrugged at Chuck with an innocent and silent, 'What?'

"Okay. Okay, I think, uh, I think maybe we should move on now. Get some sun while it's out. Let you two…do whatever…it is…you two…do," Ellie said. The look on Devon's face was entirely too cheeky to be appropriate but Sarah didn't care. She was enjoying this too much. "See you tonight?"

"Yes," Chuck droned, his body tense, face set in a permanent wince. When Ellie teasingly pat him on the cheek and wrinkled her nose cutely, he grinned and shook his head. The affection between them was real. And it made her ache in both a good and a bad way. Envy was a terrible thing.

"C'mon, Dev." Ellie gave her fiancé's arm a little tug and started moving away.

"Sarah, nice to see you—meet you. Nice to meet you. Ha ha. Bro…" He made a power fist.

"Devon!" came the stern warning from Ellie who was already walking away.

The handsome—unfairly handsome—man rushed after her, properly chastised, throwing them one last wave over his shoulder.

"Jesus. H. Christ."

Sarah giggled and turned to see Chuck standing there with his hands over his face. "They were worse than I imagined."

"I like 'em," she chirped. "I think they're great."

He sent her a flat look. "Glad you were so amused by all of this."

"I _really_ was. Not at your expense."

"Yeah, not _totally_ at my expense, but a little bit," he said with an amused glare.

Her only response was to hold up her hand with her thumb and pointer finger close together.

He merely laughed and shook his head, asking the bartender for one of what she was having.

—

She'd been drunk.

That was the only explanation.

Sarah swept her gaze forward to look at the other couple walking arm in arm through the Mediterranean night, the breeze playing at the hem of Ellie's black dress which stopped just above her knees.

How had she gotten herself into this? Alcohol. That was how. She was about ready to give up alcohol altogether.

If she hadn't been on her third piña colada when she'd been asked to go on a double dinner date with Chuck and his sister and future brother-in-law, she wouldn't be here.

It had made her gutsy. Stupid. Her sense had made way for desire. She'd really wanted to say yes. She knew she had to tell Chuck she couldn't. That maybe it was a little intense. Maybe meeting Ellie was a bad idea.

It would have hurt him, but at least she wouldn't be in deep shit right now.

And she was in deep shit, she realized as Devon held the door to the restaurant open and chirped a friendly, "After you."

They all filed in.

Ellie took charge, having made the reservation.

Even the appreciative look she'd gotten from Chuck when he glanced up to see her approach in the hotel lobby earlier hadn't tempered her nerves for long.

This was a mistake.

How many times had she told herself that in the last week about different things, all of them having to do with the nerd she was admittedly attached to? And yet, she kept doing this crap. Dear God.

Because she liked him. There was no denying it. And she wanted to know more about him. About his family.

Once they were seated at the table and the menus were distributed, Ellie beamed and looked about ready to say something, start the small talk, whatever it was. But Sarah quickly spoke up.

"I'm sorry. Please excuse me. The-The, uh, restroom."

Chuck smiled at her as she slid out of her chair that was next to his. She grabbed her strap purse and moving away from the table with a polite smile in Ellie's direction. The woman was watching her a bit too closely as she walked away, and Sarah felt her eyes on her for a few seconds as she made her way to the hallway that led to the bathroom.

As Sarah stepped inside, she held the door open for the woman walking out, and as it snapped shut behind her, she realized she was alone in the five stall, black marble bathroom.

She immediately went to one of the sinks and stared in the mirror. If this were a movie, she'd splash her face with water, let out a dramatic sigh. Instead she just took her own face in, studying every last nuance of it. It was the face of a liar. A manipulator. A con woman. A murderer.

And here she was out there trying to converse and hobnob with people who were none of those things, people who were legitimately _good_. A man who'd programmed a game for one of his old classmates and named it after him when he'd died. A neurosurgeon. A heart surgeon.

These were _great_ people. They were sweet, down to earth…funny. And smart. She hadn't spent much time with Ellie yet, but she could already tell the woman's brain was always going a mile a minute.

It was nerve-wracking.

And she felt so freaking stupid, being nervous about meeting Chuck's sister. She felt even more stupid for wanting the woman's approval. She sincerely wanted Ellie Bartowski to like her. Even with how much worse all of this would be in the end. The thought of Ellie changing a once good opinion about her, even hating her, for whatever ended up happening with Chuck made Sarah feel like a pit opened up in her stomach.

She swallowed the sick feeling and huffed.

To think she'd been so close to just not meeting them in the lobby. She'd had enough time to pack up and move to another hotel between parting ways with Chuck before meeting Ellie and Devon for dinner.

But thinking about how hurt Chuck would be, whether he'd blame himself, whether Ellie would blame _herself_ for perhaps coming on so strong, or the idea that they'd all hate her for being such a coward…She had no choice but to put on her navy blue party dress, her black pumps, and fixing her hair in a way she thought might impress Ellie.

It was dysfunctional just how hard Sarah had worked on the character study of Ellie as she sat in her room. She'd listed personal attributes that she'd noticed in the woman so far, and she decided to try to tailor herself to be someone she'd like.

Ellie was smart, a do-gooder. She was a neurosurgeon. She was gorgeous and she seemed kind. She was kind enough and caring enough to bring her brother up without the help of their parents, and Sarah imagined Ellie had probably done much to guard Chuck from the worst of their trials. She still seemed a bit protective of him.

Sarah strove to be modest, but not so modest that she came off as insincere. She was aware she was pretty. Beautiful even. She'd worked her ass off for it. For the job. But she didn't feel superior because of it. It was merely a tool in her spy arsenal.

The assassin rolled her eyes in disgust at herself and turned away from the mirror, crossing her arms, and then she turned back again. She needed to stop treating Chuck's family as marks. They weren't marks. But she also didn't want them liking her so much that they remembered her when she was gone. She was afraid she'd already gone _way_ too far with Chuck. But she could be proactive with Ellie and Devon.

The door swung open and a head of dark brown hair and green eyes peeked around the door. Ellie's rosebud lips smiled tentatively and she stepped inside. "Hi, Sarah."

"Hi." Sarah beamed, and then she toned it down a little, afraid it would look fake. It _was_ fake. Did Ellie follow her in here for a reason? Dear God, what could be the reason? Was this what panic attacks felt like for people who had panic attacks?

"Sorry, I know what this looks like." Ellie winced. "Like I followed you in here to give you some kind of 'Don't hurt him or I'll hurt you' talk. I've watched movies." She rolled her eyes. "Chuck's my brother, of course I have."

Sarah let out an amused huff and nodded, turning to face the woman rather than looking at her in the mirror. Ellie closed the distance and started twisting her hands in front of her.

"I'm not doing that. I don't believe in butting in like that. Even though Chuck might think otherwise." She snorted. "You should've seen the look he gave me when I excused myself to join you."

Sarah didn't know what to say, so she just stayed quiet.

"The thing is, Chuck's been working so hard since…Well, since he was a kid. He's never taken trips. At least, not big ones like this. He's never allowed himself the time. Which is why he's as successful as he is now." She shrugged and sighed, leaning against the counter and going into her purse to pull lipstick out, playing with it in her hands, rolling it up and then back down again. "You have to make sacrifices sometimes."

"Yeah," Sarah murmured. "You do." She understood that more than anyone. She hated herself for the sacrifices she'd made. The dents in her moral compass, for instance. The wounds to her soul.

"I literally had to drag him here. I almost threatened him. I was so close to threatening not inviting Morgan to my wedding; I'm sure he's told you about Morgan." Sarah nodded. "I know, it's super mean. Conniving." She wrinkled her nose and it was rather cute. "But the best way to take my brother out is to go after his best friend."

She chuckled a little and finally turned to look in the mirror and reapply her lipstick, smacking her lips once and putting it away again.

"Luckily, Devon was key in persuading him. But—" She shook her head at herself. "The reason I cornered you in the bathroom—and I'm realizing now how awful I am for doing this, I'm so sorry, but I'm just gonna keep going 'cause we're already in here—is that by the look of it, you've been monumental in getting him to just fucking relax." She winced. "Sorry. Language."

"Oh, no. Please. Don't apologize for that," she drawled, pointing at herself.

Sarah felt her chest puff out a little at the subtle look of approval that got her.

"Seriously, I've never seen Chuck so eager to chill." She must've made a face because Ellie rushed on. "Not that he isn't chill. He comes across as super laid back, and he really is. It's hard to ruffle his feathers. He's patient and tolerant. But he gets so lost in work that he…Well, he's a workaholic. And it gets to be a lot. Almost to a worrisome degree. So…" She shrugged. "Thank you. Thanks for giving him a reason not to have his eyes glued to the computer, coding and programming and emailing. I wonder if you aren't the _only_ thing that could do it." She shook her head. "You're seriously pretty. My gushing earlier today aside. Just ignore that. Pretend it didn't happen. For all of our sakes."

Sarah laughed, feeling a lot better about this conversation, even though her heart was aching terribly. "I make no promises. It was funny as hell."

Ellie snorted and shook her head. "Fine. But you're a weirdo." She paused. "I like weirdos, I think. I'm marrying one, so I'd better. Pft."That got another laugh out of the assassin. And then, for just a moment, Sarah was awash with the realization that this might be the last and only time she'd have the woman to herself, without anyone else listening in. And maybe…just maybe…there were things Chuck's older sister needed to hear.

"You know…Ellie. Chuck told me about your parents. Just-just cursory stuff, nothing too detailed or…personal. We haven't known each other very long, after all. But I do know you had a hand in the way he is, and judging by the way he is—how _good_ he is," she said sincerely, almost reaching out to put a hand on Ellie's arm but resisting at the last second. She felt awkward. Shy. "You must be pretty awesome yourself. Which makes sense, because Chuck calls your fiancé Captain Awesome, and you two work really well. I mean, it looks like you do."

"We do." There was no small amount of warmth emanating from Ellie as she smiled quietly at Sarah. "And thank you for saying that. It was very sweet."

"Chuck's rubbed off on me." She shrugged one shoulder cutely. "And, honestly, he's made my vacation a lot more relaxed than it would normally be. You have…no idea," she finished, widening her eyes, knowing the full meaning would be lost on the other woman.

Ellie let out a one syllable giggle and gestured toward the door. "Let's go back, huh? We haven't even ordered yet. And I'm fucking starving." She winked as she cursed and Sarah beamed.

Yeah.

She _really_ liked this woman.

—

"Say hello to my little frennn'!"

Ellie squeaked and jumped back as her fiancé thrust his hand out from where he'd had it behind his back, a crab clutched between his fingers.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Devon? Put it back."

He and Chuck were chortling, they were laughing so hard. But Devon laughed a little less hard when the brunette's hand made contact with the back of his head. "C'mon, El. It's a souvenir."

"It's a living thing. Put it back."

Sarah beamed at the lot of them, sitting on a rock off to the side, her pumps dangling from her fingertips as she dug her toes in the sand at her feet.

Chuck stood off to the side, staring up at the cloudless sky dotted with stars. One of his pant legs was gathered up at his knee, and the other had fallen down a little to his mid calf. It was cute. She wanted to fix it. But that was a bit too intimate.

And she was lazy.

After dinner, they'd gone bar and club hopping, drinking and essentially "tearing the city up", as Ellie had put it before she'd sobered up.

She was sober now as she let the waves roll over her bare toes, smiling out at the French Riviera.

And as the night had progressed, so had Sarah's affection for these people. These wonderful, too-good-to-be-true people.

But that was just it, wasn't it? They _were_ true. Chuck was real. His sister was real. And Devon 'Captain Awesome' was real. These were real people. She was sure they all had faults…somewhere. Faults that she'd probably get to know well if she spent enough time with them. But faults or not, they were just…marvelous. This little family that anybody would be lucky to be a part of.

And she wanted to be the type of person who felt good, and thought about how much better off the world was that these people existed, that they cared for each other as much as they so obviously did.

But she wasn't a good person. So instead, she felt that stab of envy again. This was something she'd never be a part of. There was no pity. It was just a fact.

These people should be out on the town with someone who was inherently good. Some girl who didn't lie or manipulate. A girl who didn't make character profile for Chuck's sister as if she was a mark to bend to her will. Someone who hadn't _murdered people_.

The more time she'd spent with them over the last few hours, the more she'd grown to like them. And the more she'd grown to like them, the more important it was that she protected them. These were the people she worked for. These were the people she made sacrifices for.

She struggled and suffered to protect people like this.

And that made her feel good about what she did for the first time in…God… _years_.

"This shell totally looks like George Washington," Ellie said, picking it up off the beach and eyeing it in the moonlight.

"Rad. I wanna see." Chuck scrambled over to look at it with her. "Eh. More like Einstein."

"Shut up."

Sarah giggled quietly, then frowned again.

This had been good.

A phenomenal night, so much fun, and she'd enjoyed herself more than she had any right to. And that was exactly the point. She had no right. It was clearer now than it had ever been. As hard as it would be, she thought she was ready for tomorrow. And it was because of this double date.

She'd done good, saying yes.

Then why did she feel so empty?

"Hey. What's up?"

Chuck shuffled closer to her. She hadn't heard him coming because Ellie and Devon were laughing and wrestling each other towards the water.

"Hm?" She smiled widely at him, but he merely furrowed his brow. "What?" she drawled.

"Nothin'. You just seem…Well, you were frowning."

"I wasn't frowning. What have I to frown about?" So much. So very much.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." Sarah brushed off his concern with a quick wave of her hand. "I'm probably just tired. You know, I um…didn't get all that much sleep last night."

"Oh hoooo!"

How in the hell had Devon crept up without her seeing him? Ellie spun around where she was wiping wet sand off of her leg. "What? What happened?"

"Nothing," Devon chirped, but Sarah clearly read his lips as he mouthed, "I'll tell you later" to his future wife. Ellie rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning her leg off.

"Hey," Devon said, inching closer, "if you're tired, Sarah, maybe we _should_ head in, ya know? It is getting kinda late and I didn't sleep much, either—"

"Nooooope."

Sarah laughed as Chuck shook his head and covered his ears with his hands. And then he chuckled and reached down to help her down from her perch on the rock. "We should head in I think. I'm pretty tired, too, actually."

"Takes two to tango, bro." Devon thrust his fist out for Chuck to pound, but he was ignored thoroughly. Sarah felt bad for him so she moved her fist around to bump the side of his. "I'll take it. Thank you, Sarah." He shook his fist at Chuck's back as the younger man started towards the steps that led up to the boardwalk.

They shared a taxi back to the hotel, piling out as Chuck took care of the driver, and then they strolled into the lobby. Sarah had tried so hard to come up with a reason for them to stay out on the beach, to continue enjoying the night breeze and the sound of the ocean…So that she could continue enjoying this for as long as possible.

"Anybody want to stop in the bar for a night cap?"

Had she said that? Had that just come out of _her_ mouth?

No, everybody was looking at Ellie. Ellie had said it.

"Yes. That sounds nice," she said. Chuck turned to give Sarah a look. He seemed a little confused, and she didn't blame him, after all of their "I'm tired" talk on the beach.

But they all filed into the bar anyway.

Chuck bought a bottle of petite sirrah and the bartender lined up four glasses on the bar, filling each one with the bottle, nodding politely, and wandering off to continue working.

"To Nice," Devon announced, lifting his glass. Everyone parroted him and they clinked glasses before sipping.

"I think I've taken more alcohol into my system tonight than the rest of the trip so far combined," Ellie admitted.

"No."

She turned to look at her fiancé, her hand on her hip. "What no?"

"Uh…That night we went to the clubs, you definitely drank more."

"Oh. I, uh, I forgot," she laughed.

"Yeah, no wonder."

They spent a half hour at the bar, chatting. Ellie told Sarah about some of her patients, while Chuck and Devon both rolled their eyes as though these were stories they'd heard plenty of times before.

Eventually, Devon took Ellie by the hand and led her out onto the floor as the jazz band in the corner played a soft, gentle tune. It made Sarah feel sleepy, comfortable. And when Chuck pulled her out there as well, she found it easy to just fold into his chest and shut her eyes, letting him slowly lead her around the floor.

"I hope you don't think my sister's some kind of drunk after tonight."

Sarah giggled, pulling back to look at him. "I don't. She's good at having fun."

"She really is. Which is a very good thing, because she didn't used to be. We've almost, like, switched places in a way."

"What d'you mean?" She tilted her head in curiosity.

"Uhhh." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. She thought about telling him he didn't have to talk about it if he didn't want to. He looked a little uncomfortable. But she wanted to know, so she waited.

"I, uh, I told you about the whole thing with my parents. It meant Ellie had to grow up a lot faster than most pre-teens. On top of school, she had to learn to cook, she took care of the bills, she did my dad's taxes for him. Can you imagine?" He shook his head with a smile of awe. "A 13 year old doing taxes."

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat.

"But, I mean, she had to take care of both of us and that meant taking babysitting jobs and then switching to retail when she turned 16, all on top of school work, driving me to water polo practice. I mean, she _never_ had fun. She had friends but she only saw 'em at school. I seriously don't remember her ever being like 'See ya, Chuck. Going to the movies with my friends.' She went on dates with guys here and there, but…" He shrugged. "Keeping us afloat was literally _all_ she did. And there I was, not really comprehending everything that she was going through."

He shook his head a little.

"Not that I wasn't grateful. And, I mean, I took babysitting gigs and worked two jobs at 16 and did what I could to help out, cleaning the house and stuff, but she sort of created this safe bubble around me in a way…"

His eyes got a little cloudy as he looked away, and she could practically see the memories swelling in his features. "She made me feel like my life was more normal than I think it really was. So I was the one doing fun things: basketball and water polo, spending hours online playing video games with my buddies while she paid bills, listening to my dad's vinyls with Morgan while she was in the other room making phone calls to keep our power on."

Sarah just watched him quietly. She could see regret in him. She imagined he looked back on that time with a mixture of gratefulness and anger at himself for not seeing how tough things were for Ellie. The assassin had just met the woman today, but she was good at reading people. She'd made that character profile about her, hadn't she? And she imagined Ellie Bartowski had to have cared so much about her little brother, wanted to protect him so much, that she slipped a happy face on no matter what was going wrong. It made sense.

Sarah's dad had done the same thing, and probably for the same reason. His reasons just weren't even slightly as selfless or thoughtful as Ellie's must have been. His happy mask was to fool people, to fool her. And Ellie's was to safeguard her brother's happiness.

No wonder Chuck Bartowski was such a sincerely optimistic and positive person. The most optimistic person she'd ever met.

"So yeah. We switched now. Now she's the one who likes to go out and have fun and enjoy herself." He teasingly lifted his hand and mimicked drinking, his eyes crossing and his tongue hanging out. She laughed and swatted his arm lightly, causing him to chuckle. "Just kidding. I tease her about being an alcoholic, but she is one." Sarah burst into laughter. "Just kidding. She's not."

"She would probably kill you if she heard you say that."

"Naaaah," then he wrinkled his nose and tilted his head. "I mean, yeah, she would."

"So now you're the workaholic who never does anything fun?" she asked.

"Guilty." He winced. "Those two go on vacation whenever they can. Ellie says she wants to go places and see and do things before they start a family which makes sense." He shrugged. "I just have so much work to do. So much I want to build and invent. I want to expand SOLO, you know? I want to create something that's never been done before. Games that appeal to people from everywhere. I don't want to stop 'til I get there."

"Well…" Sarah sighed, looking down thoughtfully. "You don't have to _stop_. But maybe a pause here and there is good for you."

He smiled at her, then nodded once, emphatically. "You're right. If I hadn't paused to come on this trip…"

He didn't seem to want to finish that, and she didn't want him to, either. She didn't want some intimate comment about how he never would have met her.

"You never would have discovered how great a quiche can be."

Chuck laughed, and there was something in his eyes as she smiled up at him, pleased to hear that sincere, lovely sound come from him because of something she said. She ignored that something, even as it crept deep into her heart without her knowing. Something she might think about later…when it resurfaced.

As they slid into the elevator, the night slowly creeping into the morning hours, Sarah watched Chuck press the numbers for their floors. Ellie and Devon's floor. And then his floor.

It seemed completely automatic. Like he hadn't even considered pressing the button for her floor.

And it wasn't until he folded into the railing next to her that she felt his body tense. He must have realized what he'd done. And in front of his sister and future brother-in-law.

An awkward silence fell over the foursome, and Sarah, biting her cheek to keep from smiling and/or laughing at the situation, glanced subtly over at both Ellie and Devon. Ellie was looking at the ceiling, her upper lip clenched between her teeth and her eyes wide, as though she was keeping in…Well, Sarah assumed Ellie was trying to keep from bursting and embarrassing her brother. And Devon stared at the elevator doors, his mouth stretched into a toothy grin that clearly said 'This is the best night ever, I can't believe how great this night is, I will remind Chuck of it every day for the rest of his life'.

It all made it that much harder for her not to laugh.

She was sure that when Chuck told his sister at brunch that he was seeing a woman here while on vacation, he didn't say anything about them sleeping together. With how silly he acted about his sister and her almost-husband being intimate, how much of it was teasing she had no idea, she didn't imagine Chuck said anything close to, "Oh, and we're having sex."

He didn't have to say it now.

Ellie and Devon were _well aware_.

And for a moment, this incredibly awkward situation flooded Sarah with a warmth she'd never felt before. This was probably the most normal thing that had ever happened to her. An incredibly uncomfortable moment, tense silence in the elevator, a brother mortified by the fact that he'd just wordlessly revealed to his sister that he's having sex with the other woman in the elevator…

The assassin reveled in this moment.

She told herself she was going to remember it forever. And how strange was she that this moment—of all of the moments in the past week—would be the one she'd cling to the hardest on the bad days. On the worst days. When she felt the emptiest, and the world seemed truly bleak, she'd remember how purely awkward this minute and a half in the elevator was. She'd remember Ellie's face of sincere glee that she tried to hold back for her brother's comfort. And Devon not even bothering to cloak how proud he was that his future brother-in-law was getting action. And Chuck mortified by all of it.

The door slid open as they stopped on Ellie and Devon's floor.

"Well, goodnight!" Ellie chirped. She turned and stopped in the threshold, holding the elevator door open. "Sarah, it was _really_ nice meeting you."

She said it as though she was sure she'd see her again soon. She even seemed a little excited about it. Like she was looking forward to it.

"God. Yes. It was great meeting you too, Ellie." And for a moment, Sarah wanted to hug Chuck's. Because she liked her. But also because the woman _deserved_ one. Everything Sarah had witnessed, the slightly uncomfortable but still sweet chat in the bathroom, what Chuck told her about how hard Ellie worked to protect him when they were young…God, the woman deserved the best hug. And Sarah wanted it, too.

But instead of stepping forward, she stepped back, dropping her hand on the railing behind her. "G'night, Ellie. Devon."

Devon stepped out after his wife and held up both hands. "Night, you two." He winked pointedly at Chuck, then grinned at Sarah. And just before the doors slid shut, he boomed, "GO FORTH, MY SON!"

Sarah heard Ellie's, "Devon! Seriously!" and then the doors sealed shut.

She couldn't hold it in. In spite of the emptiness she was feeling at the night coming to an end, Sarah laughed, hunching forward, putting a hand on her forehead.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I don't know what the hell I was…God."

"Go forth, my son!" Sarah bellowed, saluting.

That got Chuck laughing. "He's such a fuckin' weirdo, man. _No tact_."

"Nope." She shook her head. "I like it. It's refreshing."

"It's less refreshing when you live with it every day for, like, almost 10 years."

The doors opened on Chuck's floor and he held them opened for her. She paused only for a moment, not enough for him to notice. And in that moment, she considered not doing this.

She didn't deserve this night. And she didn't deserve an ending to this night that included taking even more from this man than she already had.

There was such a heavy weight on her shoulders as she smiled and walked out of the elevator past him, leading the way to his suite.

She couldn't stop. Even if she wanted to. She couldn't plead fatigue and go back to her room. If she left now…

She just couldn't.

And as she slid her fingers around his once they stepped inside of his suite, slowly walking backwards and leading him towards the bedroom, not looking away from his eyes even once, Agent Walker decided she still had something left to give him. Something she'd never given anyone else. Ever.

As they stood beside the bed, she tenderly put her hands on either side of his face, and she leaned up and kissed him. She didn't pull away for quite some time, her eyes shut so tightly, her whole body _aching_.

They undressed quietly, slowly. And she took the time to stroke her hands over him, caress his body, press her lips to every bit of skin she could reach.

And when they climbed into bed, she gently pushed him onto his back. She'd given her body before. For release. For a distraction. Because it felt good. Because she wanted to.

It had never been more than physical. Never anything more than sex—whether it was good or bad.

He deserved so much better than her physical self. He deserved more than _just sex_. This was her chance—perhaps her last chance—to give herself to someone. To give…her whole self.

Not just her flesh, but the woman deep inside, the heart that beat inside of her chest, the soul that flowed through her veins and rarely showed itself through the mask she always kept in place for her protection.

She wasn't protecting herself was her silent promise.

Sarah buried her face under his chin as she sank onto his erection. She felt his sharp intake of breath, the way his fingers dug into her skin at her hips.

But then she braced her hands on the mattress next to his shoulders and looked down into his face as she began to gyrate into his lap. She met his gaze, and she let him in. All the way.

The walls came toppling down. Her mask fell away. Anything she'd learned at the Farm, and in the years after about being a spy, about concealing instead of feeling, hiding, dodging…She pushed it all aside.

She broke his passionate gaze and draped herself over him, dragging her body over his with each long, slow thrust, pushing her face into his hair and cupping his jaw in both hands. He breathed her name in her ear, and she thought no name had ever sounded more like _her name_. No name ever would again.

His voice had etched the name onto her heart. She'd always be Sarah in quiet moments when she was alone, when nobody could see her. When she cooked for herself or sat in the park reading a mystery novel, before she stepped inside the doors of the CIA headquarters in Langley…she'd be Sarah.

She gasped, barely keeping it from becoming a sob as she realized what was happening. Every time she'd sat astride him, moving in his lap, arching her back, whimpering, doing her best to pleasure him the way he was pleasuring her, she'd thought she'd been losing herself. Losing herself in the sex, in him. But that wasn't it at all.

She lost herself when she set off a bomb on a yacht, when she slipped poison into someone's drink, when she pulled the trigger.

Here was where she'd found herself.

In his arms. In the light of his smile.

Every time she gave into her desire, into her passion, and let him see all of her, feel all of her…she was finding herself again. She knew what she really was. Who she really was. Before everything had happened, before she'd learned corruption and death. Before she'd given in to her work, lost herself in the job. Her discovery was too late.

But she wouldn't throw in the towel until she made love to this man.

Sarah swept her hips back and forth more swiftly, tensing her body with each thrust, pulling him in, clinging to whatever part of him she could wrap her hands around.

He sat up then and strung his arms about her torso, kissing her neck, arching himself up to meet the swinging stroke of her hips.

Sarah cried out into his hair and threaded her fingers in his hair, rocking even faster in his lap.

Their sighs filled the room, dotted with moans and whimpers.

And then he turned them over and held her close, cradling her body as he took over, his thrusts long and hard.

She let out a harsh breath, whispering his name into his ear, shutting her eyes tightly, her brow furrowed in passion.

They made love that way for awhile, Sarah falling over the peak over and over again, but never slowing down, even in the height of her ecstasy.

Sarah and Chuck rolled every which way on the bed, shifting the mattress a bit on its frame, each of them making use of the headboard depending on who was on top.

And the longer it went, the more Sarah began to lose her grip on everything. The more realizations about what was coming later on in the day, about what it all meant, started creeping into her thoughts.

She started losing herself again, and tears began to threaten.

No. She wasn't doing this. She was vulnerable. She had no protection here. Not against the tears. But she fought as hard as she could, starting to make her riding thrusts harder and faster.

The love-making was growing rougher and rougher with each passing second as she fought to keep him from realizing she was trying not to cry. If he knew that, he would stop this, he would cradle her, he'd look right into her eyes, into her soul, and he'd ask what was wrong. She'd have to tell him. As defenseless as she was in this moment, with no walls or safeguards around her, she'd blab everything.

So she shoved her face into his hair with a ragged moan and bucked in his lap.

Chuck groaned, his voice drifting off in a supremely pleasured chuckle, obviously in awe of how good she was making him feel. Her own body felt as though it was lit on fire, the tingling more of a relentless, delicious buzz.

She held onto the physical sensations and continued making love to him.

"Oh my God," he panted, holding her hips as she bucked almost wildly. "Oh my _God_!"

She squeezed his name out between her lips, her voice tight and filled with emotion she'd never heard in her own voice before. Everything was threatening to boil over. She was a volcano, the lava slowly rising to the peak, dangerously close to spilling over.

Sarah was saved as she tipped over the edge again, crying out raggedly with climax, pushing herself up to tower over him, her head falling back, hair sweeping over heaving shoulders.

Chuck's hand closed over her breast and she mewed. It was almost a pitiful sound. She just wanted so much more than this. She wanted this to last…

In more than just her memories…

She couldn't forget.

She moved harder against him, the bed creaking under her strength as she grabbed the headboard in a fierce grip, looking down at the unbridled awe and ecstasy in his face as he stared up at the ceiling past her shoulder, his eyes hazy in pleasure.

She had to do whatever she could to make sure she didn't forget. And she lowered her hands to his chest, jerking her hips in wild, quick thrusts, her movements so graceful and erotic.

He came inside of her with little warning, his voice strangled in his throat as he panted her name, his desperate fingers grappling for her waist, hips, ass, breasts…

He arched up from the bed with an almost animalistic growl, and then he flopped back down again, breathing hard, his chest heaving, even as she felt him still releasing his seed, his hips gyrating up into her in gentle, shallow thrusts.

Sarah draped herself over him again, kissing his face, his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. She carefully slid his shaft out of her and dragged her lips down his lithe form damp with sweat. Lower, lower…even lower.

She stayed under the sheets for awhile, tasting him, memorizing the taste, memorizing the way her true name sounded in one of Chuck's whimpers. She would remember the way his fists twisted in the sheets on either side of his hips, the whiteness of his knuckles, the sound of his pleasured chuckle.

And when he was hard again, he tugged her back up so that their faces were aligned, pushed her onto her back, and knelt over her, continuing their lovemaking as he towered over her.

Eventually, he fell asleep, and she watched, their bodies tangled, faces close. Her heart raced against her chest when his eyelids finally shuttered closed, his head slumped to the side a little, and his breathing evened out.

But his grip on her didn't loosen even a little bit. If anything, it seemed like it had tightened in his sleep. She forced herself not to succumb to exhaustion in spite of the room beginning to slowly lose its darkness as the sun made its way to their side of the world.

She let her fingers play over his face, the sweet subtle kink at the end of his nose, the slight pout of his lips in sleep, the handsome indent between his bottom lip and his chin. She felt his hair, made messy by her fingers when she'd made love to him.

The next thing she knew, the sun was up—she felt its warmth on her naked skin—and she was still trapped in his arms.

But she _had_ fallen asleep. She'd tried so hard not to. She'd promised herself she wouldn't.

But she had.

How many hours had she wasted with sleep? These last hours…

Hours she couldn't have back…

She needed to do more to make sure she never forgot…

But instead, she clamped her lips together and held her breath to keep the emotions from overtaking her, her face twisting in agony as she gently peeled his fingers away from her body.

She turned her face away and let a long breath out through pursed lips, resisting the sniff that threatened, ignoring the single tear that rested at the corner of her right eye.

She finally untangled herself from his strength, from his warmth, from the safe feeling being in his arms gave her. And she very carefully rolled away from him, swinging her legs out of the sheets and slowly easing herself to her feet to stand next to his bed.

She silently and efficiently got dressed again, glancing over at him every so often, taking him in, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

She stood there motionless, her heels dangling from her fingers, just looking at him.

And then she walked around the bed to the side he was sprawled out on and she leaned down, holding her hair behind her neck to keep it from brushing against his face. She pressed her lips to his temple, raising her walls again, suppressing her emotions, doing what she could to hold everything back. She lifted her face just an inch. "Thank you," she whispered.

She pressed one more kiss to his brow, shutting her eyes tight, feeling tears start. And then she left the bedroom, forcing herself not to look, and then hating herself when she did. Just one last time.

As she stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door with a quiet click behind her, she let out one aching sob. A gasp. And then she shoved her hand to her mouth and shook her head.

Everything hurt. Everywhere hurt.

But she kept walking.

She had to keep walking.

* * *

Please review. Keeps me healthy. Thanks, everyone.

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	18. Flip Flop

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone still reading. :-)

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

She busied herself with packing for the next hour and a half, though it shouldn't have taken that long. She couldn't take much with her, after all. Spies traveled light, and assassins traveled even lighter.

She took clothes for a few days, maybe. Some toiletries. Shoes. Anything that fit in one bag. The rest would be provided by the CIA. She'd snuck down into the lobby to print out the email with her directions for the meet. She still didn't know anything about whomever she was meeting, except for what he'd be wearing.

She didn't think about the man she'd left behind, asleep in his bed. She didn't think about the double date from the night before.

And that was a complete lie.

Because try as she might, that had been the only thing she'd thought about since she stepped into her own suite and shut the door behind her.

The more she thought about how good those people were, the more she knew she couldn't have them. Somebody like her couldn't have people like them. They had no idea just how little she deserved their kindness.

And Ellie…

A few times during the night, she'd caught her eye over the table, or over the rim of her glass. And they'd shared an inside joke, something the men hadn't been privy to. And it was something Sarah'd never experienced with another woman. It was normalcy Sarah's existence had never afforded her before. Ellie had actively shared… _moments_ with her.

With an assassin.

If she'd had any idea…

God, Ellie was a life saver. She was marrying another life saver. And here she was figuratively embracing this woman she'd barely just met hours before, not knowing the woman she embraced was a life _taker_.

The more she thought about Chuck and his family, the more she knew she had to leave. She had to go. She had to get out of this world she didn't belong in, go back to her world. The more she wanted this, the more she needed the normalcy this last week had provided her, the more she strove to rip it away from herself.

She thought the same thing last night, but she felt the need to repeat it again, over and over and over again: Chuck, Ellie, Devon…they were the people she protected. They were the people she made sacrifices for. Agent Walker, as she was now—the Ice Queen, as she was the rest of the time—was one of the best spies the United States had in their arsenal of masterful spies. She was the best killer they had at their disposal. She was the most efficient, the most clandestine, and the most intelligent.

The country needed the Ice Queen. Not Sarah Walker. _She_ needed Sarah Walker. She needed a lot of things.

But an old friend who was in the same business had once told her that the country's needs had to come before their own. They'd made a choice to give up on that part of their lives. Granted, the guy had a wife and a grown daughter, so Sarah had taken it with a grain of salt at the time.

There was still the fact that what she did didn't always sit well with her. That she still had nightmares about the people she'd killed during her _illustrious_ career. She smirked to herself at that. For her career to be called illustrious, she actually had to get credit for what she did—at least, more than a pat on the back from Graham and another assignment from the folks above him. Nobody actually knew who she was. Nobody cared to know.

She was the Ice Queen to her colleagues at Langley. One of her superiors had even slipped up during a debriefing once—started to call her "the Ice Queen" and quickly retracted it to call her the name she'd been given for that particular assignment.

She didn't blame him at the time, and she didn't now. It was hard to remember all of the names that floated over her head, depending on the mission. If she could just keep Agent Sarah Walker…

But that would make things difficult, wouldn't it? Because every time someone said it, she'd remember the way it had sounded on _his_ lips. The way it sounded when Ellie said it, even. And Devon. She'd remember what she'd experienced. This spot of absolute heaven in an otherwise hellish existence.

And then she shook her head at herself and rolled her eyes, walking up to the window and looking out at the French Riviera down below. Now wasn't the time for melodrama. She'd allowed it before. She wouldn't now. Self-pity had no place here.

She had free will. She'd exercised it over and over again.

And that was why she didn't deserve to have more than this bright spot of heaven. It would remain a spot, not much longer than a week. And she would remember it fondly. Always.

While packing and piling anything she wasn't taking in a neat enough way that it wouldn't be too much of a hassle for the hotel staff, Sarah fluctuated between leaving Chuck a note and not leaving him a note.

She couldn't see him. That much she knew. But he deserved more than just her disappearance.

He deserved more.

He did.

She just didn't know if she could chance it. It was potentially dangerous to tell him…well, _anything_. And she refused to lie, even if it was something that made him feel better. Either way, she'd made a mess of this. Either way, he was going to be hurt. But she wouldn't leave him with yet another lie.

But she also didn't want him hating her. She couldn't bear the thought. Worse than that, though, was the thought of Chuck being afraid of her. And he surely would be if he knew the truth about her, about what she'd done. About what she would continue to do if she went back to the CIA.

And there it was again…

A voice in her head that was still fighting the decision to go back to what she knew. It was still there, and still loud…She'd pushed it away for awhile, but it still urged her not to give up yet. There was still time. She was meeting her contact soon, but she still had time to weigh everything. As the voices in her head battled, she had a thought that perhaps a psychiatrist appointment was necessary in her near future.

By the time Sarah was ready to go, having followed the instructions to a tee down to the large sunhat she'd had to buy from the hotel gift shop, she'd managed to stifle her mind. She had to focus now. This was a mission. She had a contact to meet. Even if this was the last mission of her career, she needed to take it seriously.

She turned at the door and swept her gaze over the room. She looked at her luggage that she was taking, and at everything else she wasn't taking. When she walked back into this room the next time, it might be the last time.

And with that dismal thought in her mind, she ducked out of her suite and made her way to the elevator.

 **—**

God, it was beautiful here.

The weather was undeniably perfect. There was a bit of heat, but it was refreshing after the rains and the chilly breeze that had come through Nice the past few days. The air was still, the streets full.

But not so much here. Here, it was a little quieter. She looked over her shoulder, eyeing the large hill behind her. It was the same hill she'd climbed before, about a week earlier. Things had been so different then. She'd had time. She'd been having fun, enjoying herself…enjoying a man she had no right to enjoy.

When she'd been climbing up the path with Chuck that gorgeous day, she hadn't realized just how deep he'd get inside of her. How thoroughly he'd burrow his way under her skin, lodging himself in her chest. In the organ that resided in her chest.

She huffed and turned back around, catching the eye of the waitress. She ordered a club soda with lime, not sure she could stomach anything else. Because all of this was making her feel rather sick.

Or maybe it was the whole not eating yet today thing. It didn't matter, though, because she didn't have time to eat. She glanced at her watch.

Her contact was meeting her in less than 3 minutes. She sipped the club soda she ordered and paid for. And then her nerves started kicking in—nerves she'd never felt before a mission.

Sure, she'd been nervous in her own way. But this was different. These were the sort of nerves that made her want to get to her feet and run. Never come back. Disappear somewhere and not go through with this.

Not out of a fear of death. But out of a fear of the decision she was making.

The assassin downed her club soda, then took a bite out of her lime. And it was as lime juice trickled down to her chin that she spotted him.

At first she was shocked. But only a millisecond passed before she felt a smile start. He was facing away from her but she knew him almost inherently. In spite of the foolish disguise—the typical American tourist. When would spies realize that disguise was ineffective if you had less than 20% body fat?She stymied the smile and slipped the lime wedge into the empty glass, dabbing her chin with the napkin and standing up from the table. She looked left and right, carefully crossing the street until she came to the island in the middle. And then she dashed again to the other side of the street, looking past her contact, down the long path that led to the lighthouse.

She didn't want to appear fixated on her contact. They weren't supposed to be chums. And she knew how conniving the top brass was in U.S. intelligence circles. There might be someone watching. A third person who would report back on this meeting that Graham must have purposefully constructed. He knew her history with this operative.

What was Graham's angle sending him? Maybe he didn't know just how deep of a bond they'd formed. Maybe he thought she was incapable of forming deep bonds with anyone. That seemed the most likely. _Ice Queen._

She supposed she'd find out in due time.

Sarah walked slowly, crossing her arms, moving closer and closer. The ridiculous shirt he wore was white with a tannish-grey flower pattern. And his hat looked right out of Weekend at Bernie's. His khakis were cotton and black, and his flip flops were horrendous. If she never saw him in flip flops again, she'd be fine with it. It was…weird. To say the least.

His profile showed discomfort and annoyance. And then he shifted and moved to the railing, looking down past the rocks into the water so that she couldn't see any part of his face, just the tension in his shoulders.

In spite of him not looking at her, or even in her general direction, she knew he was aware of her.

So it was no surprise when he said, "Nice hat."

She snorted and leaned against the railing a yard away, trying not to move her mouth much. "Could say the same to you, but I'm more interested in those retired realtor with no fashion sense pants you're wearing."

He turned and glared at her. "S'wrong with my pants?"

"Where do I begin?"

"Hmng." He looked out at the French Riviera again and thumped his hands against the railing. "And what'm I callin' you this time?"

She paused.

"What?" he asked when she'd paused too long.

She shook her head.

"Simple question. You ain't on the mission anymore, are ya? No harm in tellin' me yer cover name. Or I can always call ya IQ like the dipshits at Langley do." He shrugged, and she knew that _he knew_ she was bothered by that damnable nickname.

"Walker," she said, squinting out into the sea.

"Works fer me. Let's get outta here, though. I got a place we can go to talk."

She didn't move. "Or you can just give me my orders and we can be done with this."

This time he paused. She kept herself from squirming in discomfort as she felt his searching gaze on her profile. "Pretty big rush you're in, huh? Can't even spend a few minutes with an old friend?" He sniffed in amusement. Probably at the part where he'd called himself an old friend. Things were much more complicated than that. And then they weren't at the same time. With him it seemed a lot of things were actually rather simple.

"Why'd they send you?"

"I d'no. All I know is your CIA hack of a director specifically called the general to make me do this. Any reason why he'd tag a friendly face to give you your next mission?" He folded his arms and faced her.

She shook her head. "Can't think of any."

"Just a few minutes, Walker. C'mon. I know you got the time to spare. And I'm not sure you want what I got for ya just yet."

The assassin sent him a quick, searching look, calculating in her study of him. He smirked. "It ain't a bullet," he clarified. "But it ain't a stretch for you to think that. You CIA bastards are…well, bastards." He patted his lower back, something he must've had tucked under his shirt. "Got your assignment."

"Oh." She licked her lips and looked over her shoulder at the street, watching the cars rumble past them. "Alright."

And she followed behind him, letting him hail the cab. Every part of her screamed for her not to get in with him.

And then she got in with him.

The drive was quiet and quick. And in spite of everything, her hand rested on her knives on her thigh, under the brim of the hat she'd taken off and laid in her lap. She knew he'd peg her as having her hand on her knife if he could see her hand.

"Here, driver."

The taxi slid to a halt against the curb and they climbed out after paying, watching for a moment as it drove away again.

Then he tilted his head towards a path that seemed to lead up a shaded hill path. She merely stared at him, not budging. She'd followed him a few times before. She'd once even followed him into certain death. It was why he was here now…why he was ever _anywhere_. Because she'd followed him that night a few years back.

"The hell is this, Casey?"

He sighed and took his hat and stupid dark sunglasses off, slipping the glasses into the pocket of his shirt, shoving the hat in his back pocket. "We gotta talk."

"What is there to talk about? You hand me my assignment, we shake hands, we split up. Only to meet again a couple years from now in…fucking…Bogotá or something like that." She shrugged.

He snorted quietly and shook his head, walking away from her towards the path. When she still didn't budge, he asked over his shoulder, "You comin' or what, Blondie?"

She clenched her jaw and glared at him.

Then he turned to face her, walking up the path slowly, backwards. "Drop the damn act, too. That's _my_ act and I resent you tryin' to copycat."

The assassin trapped her lip between her teeth in an attempt not to smile.

And then she followed him.

They only climbed for a few minutes before they emerged through the trees and Sarah found herself at the top of a green hill that looked down over part of the city and the Riviera.

"Oh my God," she breathed, looking out at the scenery. "This is beautiful."

"Yeah." He nodded. "Found this place during my honeymoon. Went all over France."

Sarah crossed her arms and nodded. "How is she? And your daughter?"

He shrugged. "Fine."

"You see them lately?"

He gave her a flat look this time and she smirked. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Went straight from a mission to here. So…not for a bit. No."

"Sounds about right," she said with a nod.

They were silent for a bit and then she pushed through her hair with the hand that wasn't holding the hat. "Casey, will you just give me the assignment, please? Please."

Casey just looked at her, then he grunted in that way of his. Like she was only a few years older than his daughter. And she thought that was probably true. She didn't know for sure. She'd never seen pictures…or really even heard all that much about his wife and daughter. She just knew they were out there. Somewhere.

"Why you so eager to get the assignment and go?" he asked, flipping his shirt up and pulling the sealed envelope out.

It looked thin. That meant there wasn't much information, probably a dossier or two, a place to be, plane tickets, and nothing else. This would be a tough assignment, and she knew that thin envelope also meant a lot of research. Damn it, what did they even have analysts for? Or were the top brass punishing her? Purposefully challenging her for her slip-up in that last assignment…?

"I'm just ready to move on. They stuck me here for weeks without telling me anything. I've been suspended."

"They tell you that?"

"No, but I figured it out. They've never kept me off a mission this long."

"Sounds about right," he repeated back to her with a quiet pfft at the end.

"John." He looked right at her. "Please. Just give me the envelope." Then he was almost smiling a little, and it was disconcerting. "What?" she asked, fighting not to squirm in discomfort.

"You think I just came here for the meet-up to hand you your assignment and go, huh?" She frowned. "I'm a spy, Walker. Before that, a military man. I don't go into a mission, even one like this, without doing some surveillance first." A chill went down her spine and it must have shown on her face because he let out a soft amused grunt. "You're slipping a li'l, aren't ya? I could read everything on your face right then."

"I'm not slipping. Give me the envelope." She moved to snatch it out of his hands but he easily held it away from her.

"I've been watching you for three days now, and I don't think I have to tell you everything I've seen." She didn't need him to say anything else. She knew if he'd been following her for three days that he had seen her with Chuck. And he'd most likely even seen her with Ellie and Devon.

It made her cold. Not because he'd ever harm innocent people. John Casey's moral code was much stronger than her own. Chuck, Ellie, Devon…They were all safe from him. But the thought of the NSA agent seeing her so unguarded…so sincere and…God, so happy…

"And?" she snapped.

"You seem pretty eager to leave it all behind, dive right back into the CIA's pocket."

"It's my job."

"You're enjoying yourself, though." She didn't say anything, crossing her arms and staring out at the scenery. "Might seem like I don't know anything about people, but I know what happiness looks like, kid—I've been lucky enough to enjoy it here and there myself—and you looked pretty damn happy."

"You don't know me."

"Hey. Walker. Cool it, will ya?" He was quiet for a few moments, and then he stepped in closer, crossing his own arms. "I wasn't supposed to look in this, but I did," he finally said, shaking the envelope back and forth. She sent him a wide-eyed look and he grunted, shrugging defensively. "What? I wanted to see what kinda mission you were going on. So sue me."

"If they knew you did that—"

"Yeah, I know, but I did it anyways." He shrugged again. "They're sending you to the deserts of Iran. Isfahan Province. Needless to say, the guy you're supposed to assassinate has layers and layers and layers of security and guards. Basically a fuckin' suicide mission. No U.S. forces or personnel within hundreds of miles of the place. I know 'cause I checked."

Sarah shrugged, ignoring the chill that went through her. "I can do it."

"Well, if anyone can, it's you. But I don't think anyone can." He shook the envelope again. "I dunno what they're playing at, but I don't trust 'em."

"Is that why you had me follow you onto this hill?"

"If we were bein' watched before, we aren't now. Here's the thing." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Pretty sure they know 'bout how you saved my life. And you _know_ Graham's aware I owe you a debt. Maybe he thinks we're friends. We're not," he said quickly when she smirked. "But he might think that. Either way, you can bet he's got my dossier on the brain and that's why he sent a loyal soldier like me to give you your mission. He doesn't want you to go, Walker. He needs his wildcard enforcer."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "You think he tagged you to hand me my assignment because he thought you'd persuade me to stay with the CIA." Her annoyance with the CIA Director and his superiors combined with the softening of her hard exterior over the last week and a half…and she found she couldn't stop herself. "You don't owe me any debts, John. I saved your life because I needed you for the mission. I needed a partner."

Even though he'd been a sullen, mostly quiet, grumpy asshole for the first few days of working together as a team on that mission in Veracruz over 4 years earlier, he'd still been…different…from everyone else she'd had to work with. He hadn't been patronizing. There'd been no disbelief that his new teammate was a woman—and a young woman at that. Maybe he'd heard about her record, or maybe he had her dossier somehow. But he hadn't questioned her abilities. He'd just expected her to do the job right.

Maybe that had been why she'd followed him into danger instead of waiting in the van like she was supposed to. They had the intel already, but there'd been an innocent teenager inside. She hadn't known about Major Casey's teenaged daughter then, but when she found out about Alex later, she'd realized that had been what sent him back in.

Together, they'd saved the girl, but he'd taken a bullet, and she'd dragged him out to safety and got him to the U.S. Embassy.

Casey had received a medal from the president in a quiet ceremony in D.C. and the Ice Queen had slipped back into the shadows.

He never forgot, though. And he made sure of it. He'd been looking out for her in his own way for 4 years now. And now, she knew, he was here to do it again. How much of that did Langston Graham know? She had no idea.

"This isn't some sort of conspiracy, Casey," she continued. "They're not trying to get me killed. I've handled difficult assignments like this before, I can do it again."

"Well…That's if you take the mission." She looked away. "You still haven't decided, have you?"

"I keep asking you for the envelope, so yeah, I have decided."

"You're sayin' you decided but you haven't. You're trying to force it. I know what that's like." She glared daggers at him and he held up his hands defensively. "It's true, I do. I've had to choose between my family and my work consistently for over 20 years, kid, and every time I waffle up until the very last second."

The assassin stayed quiet, lowering her gaze.

John Casey had a wife, a daughter. Their lives weren't easy, she knew. They couldn't be easy. Casey had moved them all over the place for his work with the NSA. And she assumed he disappeared often. He'd even confided in her once that he'd missed a lot of Alex's childhood. It was just a part of the job, he said. They understood that. But Sarah wondered what it was like for Casey's family to watch the man they loved go off on some other "trip" that he might not come back from, waiting for word from him.

"Look, Casey…I know you're trying to help." And it meant a lot, knowing he cared enough. "But I don't need a pep talk. I really don't. I can make this decision on my own."

"Ah, so you haven't decided." He looked pleased with himself. She let him have it.

"It's complicated."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Had a feeling you'd say that."

"Again, you don't know me."

"Maybe not. But I know spies. 'It's complicated' is such a cop out. Think having a family when you work for the NSA _isn't_ complicated? Almost ruined my marriage ten times over, hasn't been great between me an' my kid much either." He shuffled his feet. "First time I've admitted that out loud. Don't feel special or nothin'," he growled at her.

But she couldn't help feeling a little special.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He surprised her with a sincere, long, hard look. "Because it's worth it. They're worth it. The time I get to spend at home between all the…"

"Saving the world?" she offered with a wry smile.

"Yeah. Sure. Call it that," he said, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "My family's worth the complication. And hey, I'm putting my kid through college so there's that."

"So what are you trying to say here, Casey?"

"That it's okay to be human. It's okay to have connections."

"You don't live in the shadows, Casey. It's different for you. I'd be killed if anyone knew what I did for the CIA. If anybody knew my…my real identity. The only reason I'm able to be so successful is that nobody can pin me down." She shrugged. "I can't have that kind of connection with other people."

"And yet, that's exactly what you did, isn't it?" He raised his eyebrows. "The kid doesn't seem your type, I gotta say."

"What do you know about my type?"

"Guess I don't. Just assumin'. He's a string bean, though. Seems like a dope." He grunted in dislike and she glared.

"He isn't a dope." She didn't want to talk about Chuck, though, and she found she was hugging herself, shuffling her feet. She quickly lowered her arms at her side. And she knew that had made it even more apparent that she was uncomfortable.

She was grateful to Casey because for once he wasn't teasing her about it. He'd made his point about her slipping and he didn't have to make it again.

"Listen, kid. I know you don't need a pep talk. But I'm gonna be on the level with you. This isn't fair."

She shifted her weight. "You once told me the country's needs have to come before our own. We've chosen this life, to give up that one."

"Did you?" He looked at her closely.

"Did I what?"

"Choose this life. Did you? Or did you not really have a choice?"

She gave him a suspicious look. Nobody knew about how she'd gotten into the CIA. Only Director Graham knew, because he'd been the one to do it. He'd found her. He'd bribed her with her life, with her father's safety.

"I've got my ways, kid," he explained, like he could read her mind. God, she _was_ slipping. Another symptom of spending so much time with Chuck Bartowski, the man who could coax a clam to open at the sound of his voice. "It ain't fair. You deserve a bit of sunshine here and there, too."

"Don't." He shrugged in question. "I know what I've done, what I've been, and what I deserve."

"We all have imperfections."

"Being a murderer is a bit more than an imperfection," she snarked.

"Don't use that tone with me, Walker. You ain't my fuckin' daughter." He pointed at her and shook his head in annoyance. "You had less a choice than anybody I ever seen in this business. Entrapment don't sit well with me. And now you actually get a choice. Don't waste it."

"Don't tell me what to do, Casey."

"I ain't—" he snapped, and then he pulled back and grunted. "I'm not telling you what to do. I'm not telling you to decide one way or the other, at least. All I'm sayin' is you owe it to yourself to really figure out what you want. 'Stead of forcing yourself to do what you _think_ you should do."

Sarah was silent for awhile. She moved to the edge of the hill and lowered herself to sit down with her legs dangling. "He's a good guy," she said quietly.

"Seems that way."

"What do you mean?" She looked over her shoulder at him.

He came to sit next to her, looking uncomfortable in doing so, is massive limbs all bunched up.

"You do a background check on him?" she asked, and he chuckled.

"No. Didn't deem it necessary. Kept an eye on him, though. That his sister? The brunette? One you had dinner with last night. And the beefhead."

"His sister and future brother-in-law," she felt comfortable enough to tell him.

"You like him. I could tell."

She snorted. "Yeah. Didn't realize I was being watched."

"That's the point, isn't it? You thought no one else could see how you look at him. You sure you're ready to run away from that?"

"I'm not running away."

"You're not?"

"I have a duty to—"

"Don't. Spare me the line about duty. I wrote the book. You been putting the country—your boss that stuff shirt sociopath Langston Graham—before yourself for a decade. You were 16. A kid. Too young to be tossed into the Farm."

Sarah looked away. She didn't want to know how he knew about her beginnings with the CIA. It was mortifying. She wanted to slither away into the nearby bush and hide.

"Anyways, that don't really matter now. It happened. The decision now is whether or not you think you've paid your dues. I'm not sure you owed them anything in the first place, if I'm really bein' honest."

"Now you _are_ telling me what to do."

He held his hands up. "No. Choice is yours to make."

"But you think I should leave the CIA."

"Kid, I'm not gonna tell you that. Do you know who you're talkin' to? I left a good post with the marines for the NSA. It took me away from a good life. This is important work. We save lives. We topple crime rings. Do away with tyranny. Upholding freedom around the world."

If it suited them, Sarah silently added. Not everything was as rosy and selfless as Casey's idealistic portrait of the U.S. Intelligence Community.

"You've got a thankless job, but you've probably saved millions of lives in the last decade."

"Murder is murder, Casey."

"True. And if it don't sit well with you anymore, you gotta take that into consideration. I ain't judging you for it," he rushed when she gave him a hard look. "But if you keep doing something that makes you hate yourself…it'll eat ya alive." He shrugged. "I have no problem putting a bullet in a tyrant's head. Ain't nothin' they wouldn't do to me if the tables were turned. And if it saves innocent lives, all the better."

"But I'm not you. Is that what you're saying?"

"Only you can really know that, Walker. You gotta figure out who you are, what you want, all that shit. I'm good here. I'm good doing this. My girls know that. They're…tryin' to accept it. Still." He shook his head. "You need to know where you're good. Where you wanna be."

She didn't answer, letting his words sink in.

"For what it's worth? Even if I don't get what the hell you see in that kid, you looked pretty good there."

"I felt good there," she breathed, just loud enough for him to hear. "But I don't belong there."

He grunted and looked out at the sea. "Well, then…that's somethin' you have to grapple with, if you really think that. My thinkin' is…if you felt like you belonged…maybe…uh, maybe you belong." He looked grumpy then, shifting his weight. "You get what I mean."

Sarah bit her cheek to keep from grinning at him. He was opening up, giving her advice, being a mentor in a lot of ways. He'd opened up before, but she thought he was really making an effort to help her now, protect her. And she thought that…for once…For once she had a _real_ friend in the intelligence community. One who didn't need to know her name or where she came from to care. One who, once he actually did find out where she came from and why, what she'd been through in training, decided to look after her.

The envelope was in front of her then, gripped in his large strong hand. "Take it. Look it over. Take 'til tonight to decide."

She snapped her gaze up to him, a little confused, surprised. "What?"

"I said take 'til tonight. I'll stall with Graham if he calls. Don't answer your phone or anythin'. Just think about what you want—what you really want. Ignore the voice in your head telling you what you _should_ do. And for once in your life, kid, do what you _want_. Fuck that Ice Queen shit. You're a human being. We all are. We ain't machines on someone's leash. You decide for yourself."

"I have a duty, Casey."

"You were blackmailed into this job, kid. Far as I'm concerned, your only duty today is to do what the fuck you want. Take a few extra hours."

Her fingers curled over the other side of the envelope tightly and she pulled it away from him, looking down at it. "Okay," she whispered.

And Casey proceeded to tell her the plan.

 **—**

The music was nearly deafening, she was so close to the massive speakers at the front of the dance floor, but she didn't care. She just danced mindlessly, bumping up against the damp bodies of the Frenchwomen who'd picked her up at a bar earlier on in the night.

She could've immersed herself in the nature of Nice, she knew. But she'd decided on something louder, something that made it harder for her to get lost in her head, second guessing her second guesses, and then third and fourth guessing that. So she went to a bar, had a drink, made friends with some local women, and went with them to the club.

She'd laughed, met people, heard stories. She saw the nightlife of Nice up close and personal, and she got lost in the excitement of it. It was just _fun_.

An hour passed, then another. All the while, she had a few drinks and danced the alcohol off. With women, with men…She didn't care who was around her, only that she was with people.

And as she broke off to walk to the club's restroom, waiting in the short line to get in, Sarah found her legs were almost like jelly. She leaned against the wall, and the moment she was far enough away from the dance floor, she heard that voice in her head that said this was it. Above the ringing in her ears, the voice was reminding her this was her last taste of freedom.

That had been why she chose the loud, distracting route instead of a quiet beach or a hike. Or maybe she'd just wanted to have fun, be with people. Be normal for one last night.

Maybe that was Casey's goal. Encourage her to have a bit of fun before she went off to Iran for what he'd called a suicide mission. And Casey didn't say suicide mission if he didn't mean suicide mission.

Shit.

As she moved up in line, she defiantly answered the voice. Why shouldn't she have fun? Enjoy? Even as an assassin with the CIA, she could go dancing. She could drink. She could be around people.

But if she continued to spend her days and nights killing for her country, she wasn't sure she'd be able to enjoy anything at all.

It would go back to how it was a few years ago, when the rollercoaster that was her bond with the CIA was at an all-time low, when she was numb to everything all the time. The blood on her hands had seeped into her skin permanently, it felt like, and it had made the killing so much easier.

Even then, she had to admit, though the killing had gotten easier, she'd never enjoyed it. Casey did enjoy it, if he was killing someone bad enough. She'd seen it in him, the joy he got when he picked up a big enough weapon and used it. But she thought, perhaps, that she would never enjoy it, no matter how used to it she was, no matter how desensitized she was. She would never like the feeling of ending a life.

She always did as she was asked, though. Like a machine. Program her and let her work.

But she didn't want to be like that anymore. She wanted autonomy. She wanted…this. She wanted fun. She wanted to enjoy life. She wanted to choose her path instead of letting others forge it for her.

She didn't want to just go through the motions.

She wanted sex. And not just get-your-rocks-off sex, but the kind that made her feel invincible for a little while, like her whole body came alive—an out of body experience. She knew it was possible now that she'd felt it for herself.

Even just dancing like she didn't have a care in the world wasn't anything she'd let herself do before. She always had one eye on the exit, taking in her surroundings, making sure nobody was watching her in that quiet, dangerous sent-to-kill-her sort of way.

Before Nice, that had been her night out. Dancing, drinking, but never letting her guard down. Being obsessed with the idea that someone in the bar or club was there to assassinate her the way she assassinated people. She knew the business, the ins and outs of it, and she knew how easy it was to kill someone whose guard was down.

After the restroom, she glanced at her watch and saw it was nearing midnight.

Casey was giving her the night. She had until 11 the next morning to give him her final answer. He'd gone over the plan with her over and over before they said their goodbyes and parted ways.

She couldn't lose herself so badly that she couldn't think or move at all, though, so she went to her group, said her goodbyes, and walked out into the Mediterranean night.

The area was flooded with lights, and so many people were still out and about. She didn't feel as naked without her knives, having left them in her hotel room this time. Not because she felt she was safe enough not to take them, but because she wanted to try it out.

Could she even handle walking around without a weapon?

She walked back the entire way to her hotel and knew she could. She _had_.

Sarah was especially careful as she slipped through the hotel the back way. She'd run less risk of running into the Bartowskis if she took the stairs, but her legs were wiped out and she just wanted to climb into an elevator and let it take her up to her floor.

It wasn't until she was finally locked inside of her suite that she let the tension ease out of her. She sighed, stepping out of her heels, leaving them there as she moved towards the bedroom.

She stopped dead at the sight of her suitcase sitting on the bed. And the duffle next to it.

For a moment, she'd forgotten she was leaving. A cloak of darkness swept over her. Depression assailed her heart.

She pushed her hands through her hair and turned to look at the clothes and shoes she was leaving.

The assassin hadn't bought any souvenirs, knowing she wouldn't be able to take them to her next destination. And now that she knew what her next mission would be, she knew for a fact she would be traveling even lighter than she'd thought.

Anyways, it wouldn't do to keep something around that might tell someone digging through her luggage where she'd been. Or…

She stopped at her nightstand and turned on the lamp. The wood was illuminated in the lamplight, along with two little drink umbrellas, one blue and the other yellow. She could fit these souvenirs in her bag, she knew. And then she wouldn't forget. Every time she saw them, she'd picture the way Chuck had looked with them tucked behind his ear, how he asked which ear it had to go behind the signal to the Frenchwomen that he was single. She'd had to remind him that was a Hawaiian thing, and applied mostly to women. She could still picture the way his face went blank and the "Oh" he'd emitted.

But souvenirs meant you had an attachment to a place, didn't they? In a way? And if someone found these, someone who meant her harm…They would know it had meaning for her. And somehow they would figure out she had a weakness, wouldn't they?

She couldn't afford that. She couldn't take these.

There was a lot she couldn't take.

But Casey had been right. This was her choice. She hadn't given him an answer even though she'd been ready to give him the answer Graham wanted. She'd even asked Casey for the envelope. He just hadn't given it to her. Instead, they'd had a long, in-depth conversation. He'd opened up. She'd opened up.

He seemed to think she deserved a lot more than she thought she deserved.

But she was also very aware of the fact that Casey never said she was capable of living outside of the constraints of the CIA. She hadn't exactly asked him. But if he could do it, could she?

He'd been about the age she was now when he'd hopped over from the marines to the NSA. Maybe a little younger. And he'd chosen that path. He hadn't been blackmailed or threatened. And his training hadn't been like hers. Nobody's training had been like hers. Graham had made sure of that. Her trainers had made sure of that.

Casey knew how to live a normal life because he had his wife and daughter to keep him tethered to his humanity. She had no tethers. Her only tether had abandoned her for most of her life, refusing to allow her to be a tether for him.

What if she couldn't do it?

The work she did for the CIA was so important. So so so so so important.

But it was killing her slowly. Perhaps if she went on this mission to the deserts of Iran, it would kill her quickly. She'd decided not to look at the contents in the envelope. Not yet, anyways.

Instead she kept it hidden in her suite.

Either she took it to the drop off point for Casey to pick up, or she took it with her when she got on the plane that would take her to Tehran.

Sarah walked away from the nightstand completely, looking out of the nearest window. She raised her eyes to the sky, and as she scanned it, she found there wasn't even a wisp of a gray cloud in sight. By the time she turned away from the window, she knew.

She knew what she was going to do.

* * *

Feel free to let loose in your reviews or in my inbox if that makes you more comfortable. I'm trying to write this as fast as I can. :-)

Thanks, everyone.

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	19. A Couple of Geologists

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** It's been a really long time. Sorry, everyone. Hope this makes up for it.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own CHUCK. I'm not making any money from this.

* * *

The assassin had never slept well on planes.

Tossing and turning, paranoid that after all she'd done for the CIA, the death defying shit she'd put herself through, she might die in a plane crash.

She stopped at the door in front of her and stared for a moment, and then she looked down at the small carry-on in her hand.

She hated bumpy flights, too. Turbulence. And she'd googled the weather so she'd known they'd be flying through a storm on the way to Tehran.

The assassin took a deep breath. _Sarah Walker_ took a deep breath. She'd made her decision and she couldn't take it back now. It was done. Casey would find her answer stuck under the bench near the hill at the top of which they'd had a heart to heart yesterday.

He would relay her message to Graham.

Everything would settle again.

Or not.

She knocked on the door and a thrill sent a spark through her chest, made something in her belly itch. It was different this time. Now that she'd been through so much, been so close to not doing this. Something in her had changed overnight.

She hadn't gotten any sleep at all. But it hadn't been from regret because of the decision she'd made. Nor had it been from turbulence on the plane.

Because she hadn't gotten on that plane to Tehran after all.

The door opened.

Chuck stood there, blinking once before a grin swept over his face. "Well, well." His grin grew so that his nose wrinkled as he goofily leaned one arm against the doorframe and posed.

This was it.

This was the first face she was seeing after choosing to leave the CIA. She found herself swept up in an overwhelming sensation. What she imagined flying would feel like. She felt invincible, unstoppable… But mostly she was just so glad.

"Morning," she said.

"Hi."

He had no idea how close she'd come to leaving and never looking back.

That wasn't true. She knew now, without a doubt, that she would have looked back. Every single day, she would've looked back. And she would've had so many regrets.

What she didn't regret was marching up to him, dropping her bag at their feet, and hugging him. She clung for awhile, shutting her eyes.

She was tired. She'd gone to the bench in the middle of the night to leave the packet and dossier there for Casey to retrieve. They'd agreed on that yesterday. If he went to the bench and nothing was there, she'd gotten on the plane to Tehran. If he found the packet he'd given her, that meant she was done. The rest, he'd told her, he would take care of.

But she wasn't so sure she wouldn't get a phone call from her superiors. Her _ex-_ superiors. Graham would absolutely call. It was just a matter of when.

She'd climbed into bed after getting back. And when she'd been unable to sleep for an hour or two, she'd gotten up and unpacked instead. For how long would she stay unpacked, she had no idea. It didn't matter. Not right now.

She finally pulled back and he gaped a little. He was probably confused by how tightly she held onto him, how long she kept up the embrace, the way her fingers had dug into his back like she was afraid he might disappear if she let up even a little.

"Can I come in?" she asked, trying not to sound as breathless as she felt.

"Oh! Yeah! Of course!" He stepped back and opened the door for her. He looked like he'd just gotten back from somewhere, maybe an early morning walk along the shore or something. He was in jeans and a t-shirt, with a maroon sweatshirt zipped up over it.

She'd barely cleared the threshold when she had his face framed between her hands, her lips on his. She distantly heard the door shut behind her, but she was too busy moving her hands to the front of his sweatshirt, twisting her fists in the material, pulling at the tab of the zipper.

Then the sweatshirt was gone, somewhere on the floor. Her overnight bag had ended up on the floor, too…somewhere else.

She didn't notice. She didn't care.

She wanted the feeling of him under her hands.

It was so overwhelming…the rush of utter happiness at seeing him again, yes…but also the intensity of the moment. Because it was just starting to hit her that she'd seriously and truly done this, that she wasn't going anywhere, that she had just left the CIA, the one thing that had both kept her afloat and pushed her head underwater even more.

She felt liable to burst, so she grasped at his clothes, at his arms, back, and face. Desperate. Anything to keep herself from combusting.

She'd done something insane. …She'd taken care of herself. _She'd rescued_ _herself_.

Whether she'd deserved rescue or not didn't matter anymore, because it was done.

She was here.

And she couldn't breathe.

She pulled back to take a quick breath, aware of his own panting for air. She used the moment to tangle her fists in his shirt and lift it over his head, discarding it behind her.

Her arms wound around his bare torso and she hugged him tightly, pressing her open mouth to his throat, dragging her kisses down to the crook of his neck, even grazing his skin with her teeth.

He groaned into her hair and she felt his fists tighten in the silk of the white button-up blouse she wore. He gently tugged it out of her pants and then those cool fingers of his were against her bare waist, tucked underneath the silk to feel the small of her back and her belly just over the waistband of her pants.

She whimpered against his shoulder and turned her face to capture his lips in a hungry kiss again, doing her best to feel every last bit of him she could. She was so desperate for him there was a thread of anxiety in her. Like if she didn't get more of him, she might go mad. Or worse, he'd disappear.

The assassin had never felt anything like this before. Ever. It was exhilarating. It was everything.

She felt for the button of his jeans under her fingers and popped it open, before sliding the zipper down. The moment she tucked her hand in the front of his pants and felt him over his boxers, she felt something in him change.

The amused, surprised glee with which he was returning her affections, the soft chuckles and awed crooked smiles, became something else entirely. She could practically feel the electricity spark, a fire mounting at their feet that stood so close together.

His fingers tightened on her waist, and then his hands were on her ass, hoisting her up in the air. She leapt with a soft giggle and wrapped her legs around him, her pumps falling off her feet with a _thunk…thunk_ …

And then he was carrying her away from the door finally, even as she kissed him again, threading her fingers in his windswept curls, tasting the coffee he must've already had this morning.

He pushed into the bedroom and stopped beside his bed, the sheets and duvet all rustled from him sleeping in them the night before. And she let herself think for a moment as she pulled her lips from his that his bed looked sinfully inviting.

But as she moved to unwrap her legs from his waist and ease herself down to stand on her own, she found his hands on her thighs, preventing her. There was a flash of something delicious in his brown eyes that seemed so much darker than the usual amber color, and his fingers moved to the buttons of her shirt, moving at an impressively fast pace.

He hunched over and attached his lips to her collarbone, making her gasp, her head falling back. And then he slowly lowered his attentions, his tongue licking along the upper crest of her breast above the white bra she wore. She could feel the pattern he drew with his silky, hot tongue…first on one breast, and then the other.

And she got so lost in the sensation, and in the way his fists bunched her shirt up and rubbed it over her back, that she didn't feel herself lowered until her back was against the mattress.

It was a complete loss of concentration, something she'd never allowed before this man. The assassin thought distantly that she would never trust anyone the way she trusted him. Even as she slid into a normal life, with a normal career, she never _ever_ would.

She hummed happily, and barely restrained herself from reaching up and grabbing him again when he straightened and stepped away. But then he undid her pants and slid them down her legs, discarding them at the foot of the bed once he managed to get them off.

Her first inclination was to yank his pants down to his ankles, flip him onto the bed, throw her leg over, and ride him for hours on end. She was practically _manic_ she had so many emotions battling inside of her. She was free.

 _She was free_.

This man was a part of her freedom. And she wasn't letting this freedom go to waste.

But instead he slung an arm under her and lifted her in a feat of strength she was almost surprised by, shifting her up the bed to lay her down properly with her head on the pillows. Before she knew what was happening, he had her panties clutched in his palm. And when he tossed them away, she had no choice but to watch as he grabbed the sheets and threw them over his head so that she couldn't see him.

She felt his fingers on her thighs, spreading her legs and lifting them so that they were slung over his shoulders.

And in a moment she felt his mouth on her.

She shook and whimpered, her fingers digging into the mattress at her hips. She couldn't even say his name, she was so bowled over by how good it felt.

Chuck went to town on her without the tentativeness that was there the first time he'd done this. There was no hesitation, no starting easy or slow, no letting them both get used to the situation.

He opened and closed his mouth over and over and over, his lips and tongue dragging over her entrance and tasting her. She felt his tongue tease her, dipping in and out again…Once, twice…and then it was inside of her and she felt her whole body clench, his name at her lips.

He growled and started rubbing his mouth against her, back and forth, up and down, faster, faster, with more and more pressure. Until she finally felt his teeth graze her labia, and his lips clamped down at the rim of her entrance, sucking on it at an excruciatingly slow pace.

She was going mad.

She knew she was going mad.

And as she felt him splay his hand on her lower belly, his thumb pressing lower and lower and lower with each of his delicious licks until it was covering her clitoris and rubbing it in slow circles, she was sure she was already mad.

This must be a delusion because it was too damn good to be real.

But this _was_ happening, and she decided to shut her mind up completely. The walls she'd kept up fell down again, as they seemed to do around this man, and she became absolute putty in his unbelievably talented hands.

She didn't care what happened to her as long as he kept doing this.

Sarah wasn't lucid enough to really pay attention to how totally insane that thought was.

"Hnngg!" she heard herself whimper, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She was figuring out his rhythm, learning his pattern, and she began to gently thrust into his mouth, making everything that much better as she clenched her lower body again.

Something about not being able to see him as he did this and just feeling his mouth on her, knowing he was there, made it all that much better. The sensations were fierce and powerful and so damn good.

But then his arms pushed underneath her, clutching her lower half, hugging her sex against his face, and his tongue pushed into her even deeper. Her control was gone. He'd taken full control back and was eating her out with an unmatchable _fury_.

Sarah's voice became louder as she cried out, having to reach up and brace her palms against the headboard, moving one hand to her hair and pulling in desperation.

Until that buzzing deep behind her belly button became an explosion.

"Chuck!"

She arched herself wildly, her orgasm overtaking her, falling on her like a pile of bricks, knocking her back onto the mattress so that she was gasping for air, panting, squirming.

Until, finally, it ended. She still felt the throbbing release between her legs, even as he continued to lap at her center, thumb still applying pressure to her clit.

"Oh my God, Chuck," she gasped. What could she even say besides that?

Nothing, she realized then, because instead of crawling up her body and giving her that slow, sexy smile she knew rather well after over a week of sleeping with him, she felt him give her a bit of a tug.

And then he was underneath her, rolling onto his back and taking her with him, his mouth still pressed to her sex, arms still around her hips. She let out a breathless giggle, confused as she fisted the pillow and looked down her body, the sheet twisted around them.

He shifted so that his hands clutched her bare ass, and he gave her a tug, forcing her to thrust into his face as he gave her a long, excruciating lick.

She gasped, this time able to see the mischievous look in his eye as she propped herself up with her palms against the pillow and glanced down her front to see his face poking out from between her legs.

Sarah sat up straight, bent her legs on either side of his head, and began to thrust. His eyelids fluttered and he groaned into her, making her whimper and bite her lip.

The assassin couldn't stop the grin from exploding over her face as he groaned again, his eyes rolling in their sockets gloriously. As though he was enjoying this as much as she was, which was just…impossible.

They stayed that way for awhile, Chuck's hands doing wonderful things to her body, stroking her thighs, her ass, massaging the small of her back with his strong fingers. And then as she shrugged out of her blouse, tossing it away with a lusty giggle, he moved one hand around to her front and pushed under the wire of her bra, holding her breast in is warm, large hand.

Her hips jerked in response and she moaned his name, arching her back, moving her hips faster and harder.

She came again finally, thrusting long and hard against his lips, his tongue reaching far inside of her as she shook above him. When it was done, she rolled off of him to flop onto her back, pointedly not touching him so he didn't get the idea to turn them over again and keep going.

Breathing hard, blindly letting her hand feel around for his head so that she could push her fingers into his silky curls, Sarah was incomprehensibly glad she hadn't come to Chuck's suite the night before, even though she'd wanted to _so badly_.

Because if he'd done this to her then, her decision would've been made immediately. And it would've been her libido in charge instead of her head, instead of her heart. If Chuck had eaten her out like this when she'd been teetering on the fence after her meeting with Casey, it would have shoved her right over to the leaving the CIA side.

But he hadn't.

And she knew now that she'd made her decision because of so many other things—not just that this man was an _unbelievable_ lover, one she'd be a fool to abandon so quickly.

She'd made the right decision. She knew this.

But she was still scared. She yearned for more reassurance. Or at least to get lost in his arms.

They were here, she wasn't flying off to Iran for a suicide mission. The rest of the steps she took, whether with or without Chuck Bartowski, were _hers_. She would decide what to do and where to go from here.

And what she wanted to do now was get this man's pants off of him.

So she moved her hand out of his hair and gave him a teasing tap on the shoulder. "Hey," she breathed, still panting a little.

"Hmmm?" The goof arched his back so that he was looking up at her upside down, a bit of a smug look on his face. She didn't tend to like smugness in anyone, but for some reason it was cute on him. He had every right to be smug. Every damn right.

"Get up here with me."

A grin stretched over his handsome features and he flipped over, onto her, crawling up her strong body and letting her grab the waistband of his jeans. She gave them a hard yank, unable to push them past his knees, but he slid out of them for her, along with his boxers, his fingers moving under her back to unclasp her bra.

Both of them were stark naked then, wrapped around one another, hips gyrating, hands grappling, lips dueling. When he pushed inside of her finally, they both whimpered, lips coming apart, and Sarah buried her face in his hair.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles of his upper back, and she just clung as he thrusted, so deep and slow. She bent her legs at his waist, bracing her heels on the mattress so that she could rock herself into his incredible strokes.

Sarah was so embroiled in emotion, so desperate for him, so keyed up from _everything_ that had happened, that it didn't take long for her to climax again. Breathless, panting…she needed more of him. So when he stopped, propping himself up a little, she slapped a hand down onto his ass cheek and began to throw her hips up against him, thrusting hard as he stayed still, watching her in awe.

He must've felt her losing control of her movements after a minute or two, her thrusts becoming a little erratic as her muscles began to protest, because he dropped himself onto her again, pinning her to the mattress, and started thrusting hard and fast.

She cried out and clung again, whimpering into his ear, breathing words of encouragement so that he went even faster.

 _More_ , a voice inside of her cried out. _Need more._

She listened to that voice and threw her weight to the side, sending him sprawling on his back as she towered over him, sitting in his lap. Her fingertips dancing over his hard abdomen, she rode him fast, jerking her hips, relentless.

And when he whimpered her name, gasping as his head fell back against the pillows in ecstasy, she hunched forward to grab the headboard and she bucked on him, throwing all of her weight into his lap, the bed rocking roughly beneath them.

"Oh God, Sarah!"

She came again, this time suddenly as she'd focused all her attention on riding him as hard as she could. Her fingers spasmed and she lost her grip on the headboard, falling to the side with a gasp, but he sat up quickly and caught her in his safe embrace, rounding her torso in his arms, kissing her breathlessly as they both panted against one another's lips.

Sarah gyrated into his lap again and he found her rhythm, bouncing up against her, his hands draping over her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples in time with their lower bodies thrusting.

She clenched herself with each stroke, squeezing him, arching, telling him how good he felt, how amazing he was, until another orgasm surged through her at the same time as she felt him ejaculate inside of her.

"Sarah!" he groaned, panting, holding onto her so tightly she wondered if her skin might bruise where his fingers were.

When he was empty, they both slumped against the bed, Sarah splayed on top of his body, barely having enough energy to lift her hips to pull him out and flop back onto him with a sigh.

"I…" He let out a rough breath into her hair. "Cannot breathe."

She merely shook her head in agreement. And then she realized belatedly that her weight on his chest probably wasn't helping, so she giggled breathlessly and rolled off of him.

"Nooooo," he whined, still panting as he blindly pawed at her. "Come back."

Sarah laughed and caught his hands, pushing them back against his body. "I'm giving you room to breathe," she answered, giggling as he attempted to wrestle.

They continued the playful wrestling for a little while, until Chuck said, "I'm seriously half-assing this, by the way. My arms aren't working."

She laughed some more and rolled over so that she was half on top of him, pinning his arms up beside his head and pursing her lips coyly. "Yeah, I can tell. It was way too easy for me to do this."

"Or…" He smoldered. "I let you do it on purpose because it feels really good."

The assassin felt herself beaming down at him, a glorious pressure in her chest making it hard to breathe as she looked into his amber eyes. "Does it?"

"Mmmhm," he hummed.

"Want me to make it feel even better?" she asked, her voice low and soft, dripping with sex as she lowered her face and kissed his neck slowly.

"Oh," he chirped. "Well, I mean…Sure. If you're offering."

She kissed his collarbone, letting go of his wrists and slowly sliding her body down his, kissing first one of his pecks, then the other. She had the sheets in her hand, then, moving it up her body, ready to throw it over her head and move down even lower, when he spoke up.

"Hey, by the way…Uh…I feel like I need to clear the air here."

Sarah stopped, furrowing her brow as she lowered the sheet and pushed up to look at him. He craned his neck to look back at her.

"I'm—I should probably apologize. I, uh, called you yesterday, and then I called again last night and even left a message. Not sure if you got it. Should I—Should I have done that, though? Was I being a little intense? I'm sorry if so. I guess I just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He winced. "I mean, not—it wasn't an us thing. I mean, you're by yourself here. Wanted to make sure—you know—everything was okay with _you_."

Sarah let a wide, closed-mouth smile stretch over her lips, and then she kissed his chest again, letting her fingers tuck under the sheet and very gently stroking her fingernails over his hip bone suggestively. "Because I'm a woman in a foreign land, here all by myself…? Afraid something happened to me?"

"I-I mean, I'm sure you've traveled alone for work a bunch, so no, it's not that. I was just…" He swallowed. "You can handle yourself. I know that." He let out a soft "pfft" and shrugged. It was charming. She kissed him right in the center of his chest, then kissed him a bit lower, and then again, even lower than that. "I just don't want you to think it was…I mean, I didn't want you to feel like I was being too intense. Or, like…clingy. 'Cause…Yeah, this isn't—I don't really know what this is, but I don't care 'cause it's amazing. I just don't want you to think I'm super intense."

"Mm. You said that." She kissed him lower, feeling the muscles in his abdomen tighten under her lips. She let her tongue glide over his skin, dip between the bumps of his muscle.

"So I did," he sighed. "Sorry. I just…" His hand closed over her shoulder and she stopped, looking up at him again, expectantly this time. "I want to make sure it wasn't too much. I didn't mean for it to be too much. _I_ don't wanna be too much. This is so good, just having fun and doing stuff like this—"

"It wasn't too much, Chuck," she interrupted, meeting his gaze as he craned his neck to look down at her again. "You weren't too intense." In fact, she'd listened to the message this morning finally as she finished unpacking and it had only reaffirmed her decision to leave the CIA. If only because it meant she could keep this phone and that message with it. She could hear how hard he was trying to sound nonchalant, but she heard the curiosity, too. She knew he was wondering why he hadn't heard from her, though he must have thought he shouldn't wonder, that he shouldn't expect anything. She imagined him this way. And maybe she was giving him a lot more credit than was realistic. He was just a human being, after all… A man. But he was also extraordinary—not just as a man, but as a person. And it wasn't hard to imagine him overthinking, being overly thoughtful and kind. Sweet.

"I should actually be the one apologizing," she said finally. "I felt like leaving my technology in the hotel and just connecting with nature. And then I kinda got lost which is super embarrassing because I'm not the type to get lost. By the time I got back, I was so beat that I just showered and fell into bed without checking my phone. I'm sorry." Again, the lie felt hollow and upsetting. She wanted to erase it. Or…give him something else. Something to make up for it.

So she tucked her hand between them and lightly ran her fingernails over his lower stomach, teasing his belly button. His eyelids fluttered. "You don't have to apologize," he breathed. "S—S'okay."

Sarah broke his gaze then and threw the covers back over her head, starting to dot kisses over his torso again, teasing him with her tongue, grazing his hard abdomen with her teeth for good measure. "I hope you didn't think I…" She kissed his skin a few inches above his belly button.

"Ditched me?" He chuckled. "Nah. You wouldn't do that." Then he checked himself a little. "I mean, I've only known you for a week so it's not like I'd know what you would and wouldn't do. I actually sort of…don't know you at all. Which is fine!" he added for good measure. "Totally fine, 'cause I—"

Sarah threw the sheet off of her head and propped herself up, looking down at him. "Chuck, you _do_ know what I'm about to do here, don't you?" She pointed a finger down.

He blushed, gulped, and nodded wordlessly. At least he wasn't clueless.

"So this conversation is settled?" she asked, biting her cheek to keep her amusement from showing too much.

He nodded vigorously, pulling his lips between his teeth, looking very young suddenly.

Sarah let all of her amusement show then, right before she tossed the sheet back over her head and slid down his body, tucking her shoulders between Chuck's thighs and taking him between her lips.

She stayed there for a long time, tasting him, slowly working him in her hands and mouth, letting his whimpers and sighs wash over her. She let him feel her teeth against his sensitive skin as she grinned, let him feel the vibrations of her humming while he was in her mouth.

When he was hard enough to easily glide part of the way into her throat, she did so a few times, fighting her gag response, focusing on the tightness of his voice as he groaned her name—a name she was sticking with now, whether she stuck with him or not.

And as she finally eased his erection out of her mouth, climbing up his body as she continued to stroke him with her fingers, Sarah was glad again that she hadn't come here last night. When every fiber of her being was aching to see him, she was so _so_ glad she hadn't.

Because it was important she knew she was leaving the CIA for herself, for other things. Not because of a really nice guy who made her comfortable and was also a sex genius. A sex mastermind, is how he'd probably phrase it, because he was such a damn nerd.

She knew now there were a million reasons for leaving this career that would've led to a dead-end—literally. There weren't enough good reasons to stay with the CIA.

Chuck was a really, really good reason to stay _here_ though, instead of rushing to the Isfahan Province in a private plane where there was a good chance she'd be gunned down by extremists.

She needed to feel _just_ how good of a reason he was.

Again.

And again and again.

In spite of her working him up again, she could see Chuck was still splayed out, his limbs loose, still recuperating from the effort. So she planted her hand on his chest to keep him from turning her onto her back, forcing him to stay where he was against the mattress.

And she smirked at the questioning and excited look he flashed up at her.

She turned to face the foot of the bed and swung her leg over to straddle him.

He groaned quietly behind her as he must have realized what she was doing, and she bit her lip, using her hand that was still closed around his shaft to guide it to her center.

Slowly, she eased herself down to sit on him, whimpering at this new sensation. He touched her in new places, and as she let her full weight down into his lap, bracing her knees against the bed, she thought he was somehow even deeper than he'd ever been before.

Sarah curled her fingers around his thighs just above his knees and hunched forward, shutting her eyes and tensing, getting used to the sensation.

And then she started moving her hips in short, slow thrusts forward. "Nng," she whimpered through her nose, letting every last emotion cross her face. He couldn't see it. She didn't have to hold anything back, though she wasn't sure she even had before.

Chuck groaned behind her, his fingers twisting in the sheets on either side of him, his knuckles white as he held on and let her do the work.

Sarah held onto his legs tighter and began to arch her back with each thrust, making her strokes harder, clenching everything below her waist.

"Ahhh, Chuck," she breathed out, squeezing her eyes shut so tightly she saw spots.

She rode him even harder after a few minutes, feeling the weight of her lies start to invade her headspace. She'd made her decision, she was done with the lies.

She didn't want the distraction. She just wanted him. This.

So she focused on the pressure between her legs, the sound of his pleasure behind her. And she swung her hips faster, harder.

Chuck finally grabbed onto her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her muscles, and then she felt him sit up behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso, tugging her against his chest.

His lips pressed into her back, up to her shoulder, and he gently eased her hair to the side so that he could kiss her neck. And then she felt him start to arch himself up to meet her thrusts.

She needed to feel more.

So she reached down and braced her hands on his hips, curling her fingers around to hold onto him just as tightly as he was holding onto her. And she began to bounce in his lap.

"Ohhh, Sarah!" he growled, his breath hot against her shoulder.

She bounced on him for awhile, and then he began to pick up on the rhythm she established, thrusting up to meet her. She cried out and let her head fall back, blinking at the ceiling and clenching her teeth in an attempt not to bite down on her tongue by accident.

It just felt too good.

And then she yelped in surprise, because Chuck tilted backwards, his arm he had slung around her lower stomach taking her with him. Her thigh muscles protested, so she unfolded her legs and braced her heels against the mattress beside his feet.

Blindly, she reached out to find some part of him to grab onto, the adrenaline from falling making the sensations of him still bouncing up into her that much more potent. "Oh my God," she panted. "Oh! Mmm Chuuuck!"

As he held them both at an angle from the bed, Sarah held onto Chuck's arms as best she could and let her head fall back onto his shoulder, turning her face to tuck it under his chin, and breathing raggedly as she started to gyrate.

Their rhythm didn't entirely match up as he gently thrusted upwards while she ground her hips down into him, but that somehow made it better. It meant the head of his cock met her g-spot at the most unexpected times, and her whimpers of surprise ecstasy filled the room.

Sarah's eyes slipped shut and she lost herself in all of it, focusing on what she was doing with her lower half, letting the pleasure overtake her, not caring if her whimpers, sighs, and moans sounded desperate or needy. Let him hear how good he made her feel. Let him know he was driving her mad in this position.

And then she felt his hand drape over her breast and squeeze. She cried out. "Unngg! Chuck, yes!" she whispered into the underside of his chin. "Touch me!" she whimpered then.

And she felt his fingers start to roll her nipple between them, pinching her, kneading her breast, then going back to focusing on her nipple again. Sarah arched her back with a ragged moan and pumped her hips a few times, fast and hard, squeezing her ass to make him feel more.

"Oh, baby," he gasped. "Oohhhh!"

And then his fingers closed around her hip. And just like that, he snuck his fingers down her front, between her legs, and trapped her clitoris under two of his fingers.

Sarah yelped and her whole body tensed over his. Her voice shook as she whined his name, over and over and over, as he began to churn his fingers in circles, still holding her breast in his other hand, gyrating his cock up into her g-spot.

In no time at all, the throbbing ecstasy between her legs exploded into something so much better and she cried out loudly, breathlessly, panting wantonly as she came above him, her grinding hips erratic against his.

Even as she sucked breath in through parted lips as though she'd just swam an Olympic race in swimming, Sarah willed herself to start thrusting again.

Chuck groaned beneath her, his lips pressed to her ear. She watched his arm come up to wrap around her belly, then he lifted his left leg to tuck through hers. And with one hard thrust, Chuck rolled them both over onto their sides. Sarah yelped and giggled, turning her face into the pillow and moaning as Chuck hugged her back to his chest and began long, slow thrusts inside of her.

Sarah whimpered, grabbing his arms around her and squeezing, letting him dictate everything. She didn't have much choice in the matter, he held her so tightly.

They stayed there for awhile, Sarah able to relax and just enjoy as he thrusted into her. His pace was nice and easy, his hands gentle as he stroked her body, his lips pressed to the skin just under her ear.

Her eyelids fluttered and shut as she reached up to twist her fist in the pillow, her pretty face pinched in pleasure. "Chuck," she gasped, then, as he dipped his finger into her belly button teasingly, before letting it glide down her goosebump-covered lower belly. He slid his fingers between her legs and massaged her clit again, making her whimper and bite her lip.

And then his hand moved from her clit to her thigh, his fingers digging into her muscle there as he lifted it, spreading her legs. He slung his arm under her thigh and held it up and away, starting to gyrate faster into her from behind.

"Hah—Ohhh!" Sarah clung to the edge of the mattress, opening her mouth wide, letting him hear how good it felt.

She grunted as he turned them even more so that she was pinned on her stomach, one of her shoulders hanging off of the mattress as she reached up to grab the edge of the nightstand in one hand, bracing her other hand against the headboard of the bed.

Chuck let go of her leg then and she felt his weight leave her, his chest tilting away at an angle as he towered over her.

And the assassin cried out loudly as he hardened his thrusts. She buried her face in the pillow and let out another ragged moan, feeling the bed start to rock beneath them.

This was stunning.

This was earth-shattering.

She couldn't breathe, though.

So she turned her face, letting it hang over the floor as she cried out his name, bracing herself to keep from being pushed off of the bed.

"Sarah," he groaned, his voice tight. "You feel so good…" His weight was against her again, his chest grinding against her back, and he slung his arm under her, around her shoulder. Chuck's strength left her breathless, each hard, slow thrust so deep it made her hips lift off of the mattress.

The bed frame creaked underneath them.

Sarah reached up behind her in a moment of supreme intimacy and tangled her fingers in his hair at the back of his head. "Wait," she gasped out. "Wait, Chuck…"

He stopped. "R'you okay?" he panted, reaching out to hold himself up with the same nightstand she was clinging to.

"I wanna see your face," she breathed, blushing wildly as she realized what she'd just said, and how incredibly… _sappy_ it was. But it was true. As good as this was, as much as she liked it, as much as she wanted more of this shamelessly kinky lust they were exploring at the moment, she felt the need to be face to face with this man.

She could feel the beginnings of another climax ramping up and when it happened, she wanted him to see her face. She wanted him to know what this was for her. Every last nuance of pleasure broadcasted on her features for him enjoy. She wanted to stroke his ego, too. Make his head so big he couldn't walk through the door.

And, admittedly, she was a little obsessed with his eyes. There was something inexplicably sexy about coming while looking into those eyes that were the same color as the best damn rum she'd ever had in her life years ago in St. Croix. The taste of that rum had stayed with her, just like she thought the taste of Chuck Bartowski would stay with her for the rest of her life.

Now she had at least a few more weeks to effectively make sure the taste of him was cemented into her memory.

She felt him gently pull out and move away from her, climbing up to his knees and letting her grab his hand so that she could climb up as well without completely falling off of the bed.

Sarah swiveled around to face him, both of them kneeling on the mattress, chest to chest, holding hands. She kissed him softly, bringing her free hand up to cup his face, smiling a little at the way he hummed in satisfaction.

But then the hum became a gasp, for Sarah untangled her fingers from his and tucked her hand between them, curling her digits around his shaft and beginning to slide her fist up and down its length.

Chuck groaned and pulled back, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. She turned her face to press her lips to his temple, then to his ear. "There's also the fact that while I assume you have a good amount of money, I don't think you're going to want to pay for the damages to this bed."

When he lifted his head to look at her, he was blushing vibrantly. And she entertained the thought that they made quite the pair, the way they both blushed for the silliest reasons in spite of the fact that they were rutting each other senseless with no shyness whatsoever. "Oh…right, uh…That."

She giggled and beamed at him, hoping he knew she was teasing. She didn't give a damn about the bed. She'd even pitch in. After all, they'd beautifully share the blame 50/50. They might as well share the fine 50/50 as well.

Slipping her hand into his, Sarah let herself flop back into the pillows with another giggle, looking up at him as he shook his head in amusement and fell forward on top of her. He caught himself on his elbows and grumbled, kissing her neck and down to her collarbone.

Then she felt him pause, and he reached down to grab the bedsheets that had tangled near their feet, tugging them up over them and burying himself in her embrace again. "M'what?" she asked as she felt him pause again.

He pulled back and looked down at her, chuckling softly and shaking his head. "I'm not saying it. It's awful."

Then he started kissing her neck again.

"What?" she asked, nudging him with her hips.

Chuck ignored her, scooting between her thighs and pulling her legs up to bend them on either side of his hips. He kissed her on the lips, catching her moan of bliss as he slid his hardness inside of her again, letting her feel the full weight of him pressing her down.

"Mmmmmm," she hummed, breaking the kiss. Even as he slowly began to thrust into her, she asked, "What were you going to say?"

She felt him shake his head, his hair tickling her jawline as he moved a little faster.

"You have to tell—mmm!—You have to tell me now that you put it out there. I'm— _oh yes_ —curious." She gasped at how good it all felt, digging her fingers into the muscles of his lower back and slowly rocking up to meet his thrusts.

"It's cheesy," he breathed. She felt his teeth graze her ear and she realized he was grinning.

"Tell me!" she gasped, sliding her hand around to grab onto his ass cheek and squeeze.

He whimpered and pushed up onto his elbows to look down at her. He was biting his lip, still thrusting but moving oh so slowly so that she felt every inch of him until he was buried to the hilt. "I was going to say we might have a contest…"

"A contest?" she asked, whining his name at the end as he started moving a little faster.

"Mmm…To see who can make the bed rock…"

For a guy who'd just blushed at the suggestion, he seemed to have gotten over that rather quickly. She inwardly beamed, too caught up in the sensations to do anything outwardly except whimper, thrusting her hips to meet him.

And then, without even thinking about it, she spoke. Or…rather…she heard herself speak.

"Think we'd both make pretty good geologists."

Chuck stopped. They both stopped. Then he peered down at her, his brow furrowed as he tried to decipher the meaning of what she just said.

"You said bedrock," she breathed, panting a little. "Geologists…"

A look came over his face, understanding tinged with something else. It wasn't exactly amusement, but something else…awe, perhaps?

"Sorry…Bad nerd joke," she said, almost embarrassed. "But still a nerd a joke."

And when she squeezed his ass again, she suddenly felt the heat of him ejaculating. She gaped up at him with a whimper as he groaned her name, his face twisting in pleasure, and then he dove down to bury his face in her hair, thrusting gently into her until he was empty.

Sarah continued to gape as he groaned again—only this groan had a different tone to it.

"I'm so sorry," he said, rolling off of her and covering his face. "That was…I mean…crap. Sorry."

Sarah just laughed. "Was it my truly terrible joke that did that?" she asked. "About geology?"

He groaned, but chuckled at himself at least, pushing his hands into his hair. "It was so hot, though."

She guffawed, turning onto her side to face him, his mortification not doing much to get her to stop laughing. It was just so funny. "It wasn't hot at all. It was an _awful_ joke. I don't even know where it came from," she said through her laughter. "The things that turn you on, Chuck Bartowski…"

"I told you I'm a nerd."

She felt bad, at least a bit, because he did look truly embarrassed and ashamed that he'd climaxed early.

"You are quite possibly the biggest nerd I've ever met," she said, giggling softly. "And way too easy. You've just revealed to me your Achilles heel."

"Geology jokes?"

She laughed, glad he was laughing with her now, even though she could see he was still embarrassed. "No. All I have to say is something even remotely nerdy and you…" She pointedly bit her lip, dropping a hand on his lower stomach and stroking him with her fingernails.

Chuck groaned, shaking his head. "Damn it. I need to find yours, now."

"I don't have one." She lifted an eyebrow.

"Lies. Everyone does. I'm gonna find yours."

"Fine. Tall, lanky brunette nerds. There's my Achilles heel."

His smile was a lot softer now. "Even if they…erm…finish a little too soon?"

"I don't know what you consider _too soon_ , Chuck, but were you here for the last…however many minutes or…hours…?" He shrugged. And to her glee, he seemed a little proud at that.

"Now…" Sarah rolled closer to him, her breasts smashed against his arm and chest. "How do we get this working again?" she asked, lowering her voice seductively as she took his cock and began to stroke it again.

Chuck shook his head. "You're incorrigible."

"So are you. Do I have to say something about Star Wars? Han shot first."

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned, making her laugh. "I _am_ too easy," he breathed, and she laughed harder. "But in my defense, Han shot first is the single hottest thing you could've said right then."

"Really?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Even hotter than this?" She leaned in closer, rubbing her body against his purposefully, pressing her lips to his ear. Then she proceeded to say a string of the naughtiest things she could think of, things she wanted to do to him, and for how long.

When she pulled back, biting her lip, she saw something flash in his brown eyes. He didn't seem to know what to say…

But as always…this man knew exactly what to do.

He grabbed her by her hips and pulled her onto him so that she straddled his stomach. Then, instead of letting her continue stroking his manhood, he guided her even further up his body until she straddled his face.

She looked into his eyes one last time, completely gobsmacked, before she felt his mouth between her legs for the second time that morning.

Her hands slapped against the headboard and she held on, throwing her head back as he went to town, driving her half mad.

And not for the first time in the last 12 hours, Sarah Walker the not-so-much-an-assassin-anymore was intensely certain she'd made the right choice.

* * *

I was going to put a warning about the amount of raw, delicious sex there is in this chapter, but I didn't want people to guess Sarah's decision based off of it. So if you aren't a fan of sexual situations, I hope you saw what was coming and pressed exit instead of reading on, secretly enjoying, and then messaging me in anger about what I wrote. :-)

I'm hoping to get the next one out sooner than this one. Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


	20. Snorkeling

**The Trapped Assassin**

 **By SarahsSupplyCloset**

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for waiting for so long. I'll just let you get right into the story. But thanks. Seriously.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own CHUCK. I don't make money writing CHUCK fan fiction.

* * *

Strange, how quickly a person could lose themselves in someone so fully that they not only lose track of time, they forget time exists in the first place.

There was a tall, lithe, strong body moving on top of hers, Sarah knew. Her brain was foggy, memory not exactly working right. She'd just been repeating his name over and over, whimpering and panting it into his ear, and now she just couldn't remember what the name actually was…

"Nnggg Chuuuuck…"

Oh, there.

She slapped her hand down against the mattress, twisting her fist in the sheets, and with a hard shove, she arched her body up against his and flipped them over.

Unfortunately, not only had the ex-assassin forgotten about the existence of time and the name of the man she was having sex with, she also forgot where the mattress began and ended. Or, rather, she'd misplaced it.

Because she'd already been lying at the edge of the mattress, as crooked as it was upon its frame, and her quick shove to roll Chuck onto his back ended up pitching them both over the side.

She squeaked in surprise as he yelped, that terrifying sensation of falling surging through her, and then there was the _thunk_ of them landing on the floor in a pile of limbs.

Chuck had landed flat on his back, Sarah on top of him, her body tangled with his and the sheets tangled somewhere at their feet. Was he okay? She didn't know. But then she felt his chest rise as he began to breathe again. (Well, it was more like wheezing.)

It was good enough for her.

She pulled her arms out from under him and braced them on the floor, sighing at the coolness of it against her hot, sweaty palms. Then she pushed herself up, shifted her knees to press them into the floor, and began rocking into his lap.

Chuck groaned, throwing his head back and wincing as he bonked it against the hard floor. Sarah stopped to ask if he was okay, but he clamped his hands down on her thighs and panted "Keep going I'm fine" in such a rush she almost didn't understand him.

She surreptitiously slid one of her hands around the back of his head to protect him from himself, and then she began to buck on top of him, back and forth, back and forth, swinging her hips, biting her lip and letting her head sag forward.

His sighs were getting tighter, his chest heaving…she was so close…and as she felt him come inside of her, her body shook with a climax of its own. Chuck's hands closed around her waist, his breaths coming out in growls, until he finally sagged down against the floor, spent.

Sarah used the last vestiges of energy, fighting aching limbs, to lift herself off of his lap, flopping onto her back next to him, careful of her own head. The cool floor was almost _too_ cool against her damp heated back and bum, but she reveled in it, panting for breath, covering her face in her hands.

As she pushed the hair that clung to her face with sweat out of her eyes, she craned her neck to look down and started giggling breathlessly. One of Chuck's legs was trapped in the bedsheets, suspended in the air, the white cotton twisted around his calf like a sling.

She pushed herself up onto her elbow, still giggling as much as was possible what with the whole not being able to breathe thing, and reached over to yank on the sheets until he was free. His heel slammed into the floor a little more violently than she'd meant for it to and she winced as she heard him let out a droll, "Ow."

"Sorry." She giggled some more and then let her body flop back to the floor. Sarah couldn't stop the long, satisfied moan. "We're going to hell."

"In a hand basket woven by Aphrodite herself," he grumbled, still panting.

The laugh that came out of her embarrassingly resembled a loud honk as she rolled onto her side, away from him, still trying to catch her breath.

She just couldn't find it within her to be embarrassed. There was no room for shame.

She was happy, living her bliss or whatever it was those personal growth seminars had on their brochures. She felt unstoppable. Untouchable.

"Immortal."

Sarah blinked and rolled back over to face Chuck who was staring at the ceiling, his jaw slack. "What?" she asked.

"I'm immortal. This is what immortality feels like. I'm Superman."

She beamed at him. "Does that make me Lois Lane?"

"Probably more like Wonder Woman, honestly." His eyes raked down her body in a way that instilled in her a fit of boldness.

"Hmmm, even better. Doesn't she have a lasso and cuff thingies on her wrists?"

Chuck turned his head completely, gaping at her, his eyes wide. "Why do you do this to me?"

"Do what?"

"Say nerdy stuff like that to rev me up after I've just—we've just…All that." He gestured to the bed, and she noticed for the first time just how much the mattress hung off of the frame. She felt the heat of the realization in her cheeks and she looked away.

"Just an observation," she said with a shrug.

"Just an observation," he drawled, giving her a flat look. "Pfft. We've only known each other a little over a week, but that doesn't mean I don't know that _you know_ that you saying nerdy stuff like that makes me crazy."

Sarah giggled. "True. Still. It was an observation."

"An incredibly bawdy one," he chuckled and she grinned cheekily at him, wrinkling her nose. "How'd you know about that stuff, anyway? Miss I'll-Never-Be-A-Nerd."

"I've seen pictures of Wonder Woman, Chuck. I know almost nothing about her but I've seen pictures and the TV show. She has that lasso thing and the wrist shackles."

"Oh. Good point." Then he paused. "And they're not _shackles_. They're gauntlets. Or I guess you could say cuffs."

"But not _hand_ cuffs, right?"

All she got was a pitiful whimper as he covered his face and she laughed evilly.

A moment later, he ever so slowly eased himself up to his elbows, grunting with the effort, finally sitting up completely, leaning against the side of the bed and sighing in relief. "That's gonna bruise."

"What is?" she asked, watching the ripple in his muscles as he stretched his back, reaching his arms up over his head.

"Everything."

She snorted, pushing to sit up as well and letting out a "phew".

"Hey, let's play a game. What time do you think it is?"

Sarah laughed and swiped her hair out of her face again. "I dunno, 10 maybe?"

"Kay. Judging by how sore my entire body is, I'm going to say closer to 11 or 11:30." He climbed to his knees and used the mattress to clamber up high enough to see the clock on the nightstand as Sarah waited. "No fucking way."

"What?" Her brow furrowed.

"It's almost 12:30. 12:28 to be exact."

"What?!" She moved her aching limbs to crawl up next to him and look.

"What, you thought I was lying to you?" he asked, amused.

"No, I just—I wanted to see it for myself. Holy shit." It had been a little after 8 in the morning when she'd knocked on Chuck's door. And she knew her cheeks were probably bright red as she turned to give him a wide-eyed stare. That had been close to 4 and a half hours of sex—and they'd barely taken a single breath in that time. No wonder everything was hurting.

"There's gotta be a hot tub somewhere in this resort, right?"

That made her laugh. "There better be." And she let her face fall into the mattress, her torso draped over it, arms up by her head. She let out a soft moan of satisfaction and just stayed that way for a few moments before she heard Chuck groan as he climbed to his feet.

She peered up at him as he reached up to feel the back of his head, wincing a little.

"Your head okay?" she asked, letting him help her stand as she wobbled a little. Her legs felt like they were made out of jell-O.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. My head'll be fine. Just a bump."

She reached up to feel the back of his head, too, mimicking his wince as he hissed through his teeth. "Sorry," she breathed, pulling her fingers back. "That's definitely a bump, though."

Sarah nibbled on her cheek for a moment. For the first time in hours, the ex-assassin had her feet firmly on the ground—both literally and figuratively. She knew Graham would try to call her. He would want to talk to her. Maybe he'd try to persuade her or maybe he'd hand over her last orders—instructions on how she would effectively sever her ties with the CIA.

She was now unemployed. Maybe. She wasn't sure how this would become official. And that was why she needed to take Graham's call when it came.

"Well, I'm going to put clothes on, but do you maybe wanna go down and eat something? Somewhere? With me? I'm calling to have someone sent up to, erm…clean the room and change the sheets and all that." He cleared his throat and she saw the redness of his cheeks as he leaned down to straighten the mattress.

"We did sorta…mess the bed up a little…didn't we?" she teased, because she couldn't help it.

He gave her a look that made her giggle and then he left her side, grabbing clean clothes and beginning to dress.

Sarah stood there for a moment, staring out of the window at the sea beyond. And then she shook herself and slowly collected her clothes off of the floor surrounding the bed, stepping into her underwear, shrugging on her bra, shirt, pants…

"You know…Why don't I meet you down in the lobby in fifteen? If that's okay…I, um, I should check in with my boss." It wasn't exactly a lie. As she picked up her phone she saw no missed calls. Had Casey delivered her message yet, she wondered?

"Sure! No problem. Is…" He shrugged a button up on over a white muscle shirt. "Is, um, everything okay with your job? You're not in trouble, are you?"

She saw the teasing glint in the look he gave her and she smiled, shaking her head. "No, no. Just a check-in to, uh, to see how things are going back at the office. You know."

"Oh. Wait, do you have an office?"

She glanced up at him as she stepped into her shoes, fixing her hair back behind her ear. Woops. "No, I don't. I don't have an office, really. But we have…I mean, like any agency, we have a headquarters and—So fifteen minutes, yeah?" she repeated, quickly changing the subject.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I called SOLO HQ last night to check in on everything. So I totally get it. Can't completely disconnect from the job, right?"

"Especially when you own the business," she teased, an impressed glint in her eye.

His smile made her feel like she got away with the minor slip, and she nodded, pulling her hair back with a hair tie from her jeans pocket, patting the messy bun a little, and pocketing her phone and key.

And then she realized at that moment that she had no knife. And she thought maybe this was a turning point. Maybe she wouldn't need to bring knives with her everywhere anymore.

That said, when she slid out into the hallway, taking the elevator rather than further exacerbate the ache in her limbs by taking the stairs, and eventually getting back into her own suite, Sarah found herself strapping a knife onto her thigh under the flowing floor-length skirt she changed into, slipping another into her purse, along with her smallest gun.

Just because she'd made the decision to leave the CIA, it didn't mean she was impervious to the threat of being involved with the CIA. People out there still wanted her dead. The Ice Queen still had enemies.

She may have given up the life of an assassin, but her enemies weren't going to give up trying to kill her.

It would be foolish, even deadly, to think otherwise.

Director Graham disconnected the number she'd used to call him during her mission. It was always a different number every time so that it could never be tracked. This one, apparently, was no longer in service.

And that most likely meant he deemed the mission over. More than that, she thought to herself gloomily, he must also have deemed her time with the agency over as well. Casey must have gotten her answer to him. And it surely wasn't the one he thought he'd get.

Not after everything.

Still, just never hearing from him or the agency again didn't feel right. It didn't feel like a proper parting.

It was unfair to expect to be able to leave on good terms. This was the CIA. She was the CIA's most effective and most secretive weapon. She wasn't someone who punched numbers into an Excel spreadsheet for a call center. There would be no bon voyage party with a banner and cake in the break room.

And yet…

It felt strange…almost _creepy_ …that they seemed to just let her go so easily. She had to be on her guard. Was it even legal for her to be out of the CIA without proper procedure? Handing over her badge and all of that?

This was her decision and in spite of the melancholy she felt, Sarah was sure she'd chosen right.

Her wicked morning with Chuck Bartowski aside, everything just seemed brighter. Her future, though uncertain, felt more concrete. She had the ability to make her own choices now. And she'd saved a fortune. Mostly because she'd thought she'd maybe have to bail her dad out of jail someday, but…

Well, she didn't know where he was. And she had no way of finding him.

She didn't mind the idea of using that money to get herself back on her feet. Live somewhere new. _Be_ someone new. Or, rather, be Sarah Walker.

The where and how was still to be determined, but she knew _who_ she was now. Sort of. She had a start. And now she had a path to discovering even more about herself. Her _real_ self.

She spotted Chuck standing in the middle of the lobby with his hands in his pockets, staring up at the grandly decorated ceiling high above them, a look on his face like…Well, exactly how she felt. Like she was somehow living someone else's life—someone else's happiness—and she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Hey!" she chirped as she neared him.

He lowered his gaze to her and smiled. And damn her if she didn't see shades of something special in that smile.

—-

Sarah was staring at her phone at the end of the bed when the loud knock sounded on her suite door. She jumped a bit and frowned, scooting off of the bed and padding through the suite to the door.

On her way there, she managed to snag a knife from its hiding place and slid it into the back of her yoga pants. She'd only had one full day of freedom and she wasn't about to let someone get the jump on her now.

She cracked the door open and peeked out, opening it much wider when she saw who stood in the hallway.

"Oh! Ellie!" She knew she looked shocked and confused all at once, but she couldn't push it back. What was Chuck's sister doing here at eight o'clock at night? And she couldn't resist smiling at the same time. Because she thought she'd never see her again two nights earlier after the double date.

"Sorry for barging in…Uh…" She hoisted the large sack of something in her arms a bit higher to bring it to Sarah's attention. "Mind if I come in and unload this for a sec?"

"Oh! God! Yes! I mean, no. No, of course not!" Sarah swung the door open even more, moving out of the surgeon's way as she hobbled in and eased the sack down onto the floor, grunting with the effort.

"Phew!" She pushed the hair that escaped her ponytail out of her face and stood up again, huffing and puffing. "Sorry. I know I just showed up out of the blue. I made Chuck tell me what suite you're in. You might want to go check on him—I left him tied to a chair." She winked and Sarah giggled. "But Devon and I went to a marketplace near Mantega, per our concierge's recommendation. The fruit vendor's son was playing on this wall thing and fell off. Dislocated his arm." Sarah's eyes widened. "Devon set it for him and we took him to the local clinic. Alain wouldn't let us leave without repaying us somehow. So now we've got two massive sacks of avocados and various citrus fruit. I think I saw a head of lettuce go in there at some point. I don't know." She put a hand to her forehead. "Super nice of him, but we had to cut the rest of our trip off because we didn't want to lug two of these around for hours."

Sarah found herself laughing a little bit at the couple's predicament, earning a flat but amused look from the brunette. "Sorry. It's a little funny, though."

"Well, I'm pushing some of it off on you. Take what you want."

"Might be able to set up a business on the sly down by the beach," Sarah teased. "Selling avocados to tourists. Just pretend you can't speak English and wear a bikini. I promise you'll rake in the dough."

Sarah realized at that moment what she'd just said. And although Ellie laughed with a "Good idea!", the younger woman felt her own amusement die. She kept the smile plastered on her face, though.

The thing was, she knew all too well how easily tourists were swindled. Especially American tourists. She remembered a particularly large take in Amsterdam. Spot the fanny pack, and you had yourself a sucker. Her vibrant blue eyes and blond hair, the dimples she sported—twelve year old Doutzen Van Dijk could sell anything as her father looked on from not too far away.

"Please, Sarah."

Sarah shook herself a little and looked at the other woman, still with a friendly smile on her face.

"Take some of this off of me," Ellie continued. "How am I going to eat 70,000 avocados? I like avocados, but you know how these things work. They're all not ripe enough to eat and you check the next day and they're all _too_ ripe. At the same time."

Sarah laughed. "Oh God, it's true. Avocados were made by the devil." Ellie shrugged modestly. "I'll take a few, but I don't know what you're going to do with the rest."

"I might ship them back to Chuck's friend. I'm sure he's told you about Morgan. The little badger is obsessed with guacamole."

"I have heard about him," she giggled. "Just a little. Never heard he was a badger, though, so that's making me rethink things a little." Ellie laughed and Sarah felt a lift in her spirits. "Although it's not exactly legal to ship—"

"Oh I know, I know. I'm just at a loss. Maybe I can get the hotel to take them off my hands." She huffed and shrugged. "I'll call the front desk, see if they can help me. I hate wasting food."

Sarah agreed heartily but silently. Go hungry for long enough, even just the one time, and you never waste food again. For a moment, she wondered if Ellie and Chuck had ever gone hungry.

And she took that thought with her as the two of them knelt down and started going through the bag, Sarah taking a few avocados, lemons, and some tangerines out of the bag, piling them on the nearby table.

"So Chuck told me about how you saved his dumb ass from being whooped by a French surfer."

Sarah laughed, surprised by the quick change of subject but amused by Ellie's take on the situation. "Aww, he wasn't dumb. He just didn't understand."

Ellie gave her a flat look. "It's sweet you're sticking up for him, but who thinks touching a stranger's surfboard is okay?"

"He's friendly," Sarah said with a shrug, still grinning in amusement.

"That he is," Ellie chuckled. "But thank you, anyway."

"For what?" she asked, shrugging again and standing up, brushing her hands together to get rid of the dirt from the produce.

"For looking out for him. He's a capable guy, don't get me wrong. But he still needs some looking after every so often. And I'm not always around to do it. I know that wasn't on your mind at the time, you were just being kind, but still." She stood up as well, poking the much emptier sack with the toe of her sandal.

She sounded like the big sister Chuck described her as in those quiet moments when they were alone and the older woman came up. The ex-assassin wasn't as attuned to her own emotions, though she liked to think she'd been getting better at it lately, even before meeting Chuck, but Ellie was a lot like her brother. She projected her emotions, though Sarah noticed she didn't necessarily wear them on her sleeve the way Chuck did.

She was better at keeping it from showing. But Sarah was a spy for most of her life. And it was easy to see the lingering concern and worry in the sister who'd spent her teen and adult years raising her younger brother. She thought maybe Ellie would never stop worrying about Chuck, no matter how old they got.

And that spike of envy hit her in the chest again.

"I just didn't want him to get punched in the face for a silly misunderstanding. That surfer had his head way up his own ass."

Ellie snorted. "I'm not surprised. He was probably looking for a fight."

"Most likely."

"Men. In any country, they're idiots."

"Some less than others."

"But still idiots."

Sarah laughed. "The best part is how hard he tried to hit on me. He was definitely banking on me joining him for dinner, drinks, and something else. Even in my desperate days, that would've been a no." She rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, Chuck was standing right there, all confused and befuddled, obviously not knowing what the two of us were saying since he doesn't know French."

"Of course he hit on you. Oooof course he did." Ellie giggled and rolled her eyes as well. "You should've seen the guy trying to hit on me at the club a few nights ago. I swear Devon never left my side, save for two seconds. And that guy found me in those two seconds on my way to the bathroom."

"What'd you do?"

"I just waved my hands and pointed to my ears like I couldn't hear him. And repeated over and over, 'I don't know French. Sorry. American. Sorry.' He eventually gave up on me and let me go pee."

Sarah laughed, genuinely enamored with the image Ellie had just presented. "Yeah, so you don't need any help from me. I think you can handle yourself here."

"Yeeahh, I'm good." She wrinkled her nose and Sarah thought Chuck's sister had never looked _so much_ like him as she did in that moment.

Then she waved her hand. "Anyway, the reason I brought that up is that Chuck said, um, he said you were going snorkeling when all that happened."

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I did end up snorkeling, yeah." And blowing up a yacht but she didn't need to know that.

"That's been on my bucket list since I was a kid. Snorkeling."

"You've never done it?"

"Noo, no. I've done plenty of things but never that. Sort of…a small fear thing, to be completely honest with you. Chuck made sure we never missed Shark Week when we were growing up," she added in a flat voice, making a face to match, and Sarah chuckled. It made sense Chuck liked Shark Week. He seemed like the type that wanted to learn everything he could about…well, whatever he could get his hands on.

That had included her, so far. And she didn't just mean in the sack.

He really liked asking questions. And in spite of leaving the CIA, she wasn't sure how many of them she wanted to answer.

"Well, there were no sharks when I went last week, so you don't have to worry about that," Sarah said reassuringly. "I think shark sightings are actually pretty rare in the Mediterranean, but I'm no marine biologist."

"Oh I know." Ellie waved her hand. "I'm not worried. That's why I was, uh, I was actually wondering if you might go with us tomorrow."

Sarah felt herself make a face, and she wasn't sure exactly what it looked like. Maybe surprised? But Ellie seemed to feel the need to explain further, putting her hand on Sarah's arm.

"Obviously, you don't have to. I know you're on vacation here, too, and I'm sure you want to do your own thing. You probably have an adventurous schedule all planned out for yourself." She paused and Sarah didn't know if she should say something right then. Did Ellie want her to? She couldn't be sure. And she felt incredibly awkward as Ellie finally continued…a bit haltingly. "I just know Devon's only ever done, like, camping and hiking type stuff. And he jumped out of an airplane once. Thankfully before I met him because that shit is not happening again now that we're getting married." Sarah snorted at that. "But he's not good at water stuff. And Chuck, dear sweet man, I love him to bits, but he has no clue how to do anything water-related that doesn't include swimming back and forth in a straight line faster than the person next to him."

Sarah smiled slowly. "So Chuck _is_ a swimmer, huh?"

"In high school," Ellie said. "He had a few trials in college but it wasn't his thing. Said they woke up too early in the morning for him." She giggled. "He's not much of a morning person, which I'm sure you've discovered."

The brunette's smile fell and her eyes went wide as saucers as she realized what she just said. And, unlike her brother, she didn't try to backpedal or rush to shove her foot further into her mouth. There was no rambling or spiraling. And as cute as Chuck was whenever he'd done it, Sarah had to give Ellie major credit when the woman simply continued on.

"Like I said, you don't have to. I just thought I'd take it upon myself to ask."

Sarah tucked a bit of hair behind her ear shyly and stood up finally. "Well, I…Does Chuck want me to go? I mean, he probably wants to spend time with you two, don't you think?"

This time Ellie snorted as she also stood. "Please. Not that he despises us or anything, but I'm pretty sure he only agreed when I asked him earlier because he felt compelled. I'm kind of persuasive, and also I learned really early in our lives how easy it is to guilt trip him. I have no shame." She had a mischievous glint in her eye to go with the innocent shrug.

"Still…Are you sure he wants me there?"

"If he doesn't, it's only because he imagines it'll be embarrassing."

"Why would it be embarrassing?"

Ellie giggled. "Tall gangly man in a wetsuit? Kinda embarrassing."

Sarah laughed. "What if I like tall gangly men?"

That made the other woman lift an eyebrow. "Then I'd say my brother found himself the perfect woman."

Far from perfect. But she smiled at Ellie anyways. "Besides, the wetsuits aren't mandatory if you're just snorkeling."

"No, no, no. If I'm snorkeling, I'm _snorkeling_. We're _doing this_ ," Ellie said, pointing down emphatically. "The full enchilada—or, like, the French equivalent to an enchilada."

"I'm not sure there is a French equivalent to an enchilada," Sarah chuckled. "But I get you. You've got goggles, flippers, and snorkels and all of that?"

Ellie's face went blank. "Um…"

The ex-spy chuckled again. "See, now I _have_ to go tomorrow. If I don't, you three won't even make it past the dock."

Chuck's sister squealed in excitement and clapped. "I know I should be a little offended by that, but I'm not because I'm just glad you're coming!"

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "I'll take you to where I rented. They've got surfboards and kayaks and paddle boards, too. Cheap prices, good quality."

"Perfect! Thank you, Sarah. Ahh! I'm so excited!" Ellie looked like she might hug her for a second, but instead she reined herself in and moved to pick up the sack of produce and swing it over her shoulder carefully. "Well! Bright and early in the morning?"

"How early is early?"

"We were planning on breakfast at 8. Is that too early?"

Sarah chuckled. "I was teasing, mostly. Unlike Chuck, I _am_ a morning person. Much to my own annoyance."

Ellie widened her eyes sarcastically and drawled, "I know exactly what you mean." She moved towards the door of Sarah's suite. "See you in the morning?"

"Yeah. Absolutely." And she felt really good saying it. Because she _would_ see her in the morning. Nothing was stopping her from seeing Ellie Bartowski in the morning.

"Kay. G'night! Thanks for taking some of this off my hands."

"Sure," she said in amusement, seeing Ellie out.

As she shut the door, she hastened into the bedroom again and looked at her phone.

Nothing.

She sighed and nibbled on her lip. And then she unlocked it and pulled the only other number she had on her phone up and tapped the speech bubble next to it. She was glad she'd always taken the precaution of buying her own phone for missions, setting up her own plans, and keeping that part of her existence out of the control of the CIA. It was the one bit of freedom she knew Graham had pulled some strings to allow. Maybe it was a sign of respect. Or maybe he knew giving her a little something to ensure her trust might behoove him. Either way, she was glad.

That meant her phone still worked and she wouldn't have to run off to find another one. It also meant the CIA couldn't track her so easily.

And they wouldn't see her text the man she'd spent time with since she finished her last mission with the agency over a week ago.

"So. Snorkeling, huh?" was all she sent.

The bubbles that meant he was drafting a response popped up so fast, she felt herself smirking a bit smugly. At least this wasn't a one way street.

"Oh dear God no," was all he replied with, and she laughed, jumping onto her bed and snuggling up against her pillow. "She didn't."

"She did. Are you excited?"

"This is going to be the worst day of my life, I can feel it," he texted back, adding a sad face emoji.

Sarah beamed down at her phone. "Why?"

"Me snorkeling with you there to watch? C'mon, lady!"

"Pretty sure the point of snorkeling is to watch fish, so I'll probably be doing that."

The bubbles popped up, then went away. There was a long pause…And they popped up again. Then: "Honestly, I want to be annoyed by your deep-cutting wit but it's just too hot. I really can't be annoyed."

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "What is it kids say these days? LOL?"

"Hahahaha!" He inserted an arrow pointed to his laughter. "That's what I do."

"But does it properly convey the OUT LOUD part of the LOL? I don't think so, Chuck."

"Okay, who's the nerd again? It was supposed to be me buuuuut you're kind of arguing semantics about text message shorthand SLASH acronyms."

"Shut up." He didn't respond to that for a bit and she thought maybe he was just following orders, so she sent another text. "But hold on, why are you so embarrassed?"

"Tall skinny man in a wetsuit, Sarah. TALL SKINNY MAN IN A WETSUIT."

That had her falling over with laughter. He and Ellie probably didn't even realize just how alike they were. She decided not to tell him his sister had said basically the same thing. It probably wouldn't add to his confidence much, and that _was_ her goal here, wasn't it?

"1) Maybe I like tall skinny men, and 2) I have seen tall skinny man in his birthday suit a few times. If I can manage to rent you a wetsuit that's tight enough, it'll basically be the same thing." She sent a smirking emoji face.

"1) At this point you'd have to," he responded a half-minute later. "And 2) Maybe you can rent me a wetsuit that's so tight, I won't be able to breathe and I'll drown and be spared this mortification."

"I'm really good at mouth to mouth," she teased back.

"Hell yes you are." He sent the smirking emoji back to her.

She barked out a laugh and even sent a "LOL" to him. "Go to bed, nerd. See you in the morning?"

"Yeeeeees. (Insert pouty stomping towards bed here)"

Sarah laughed again and grinned so hard her cheeks hurt as she sent a laughing emoji. "Gnight, Chuck."

"Gnight, Sarah. Bonne nuit, if you will."

She forced herself not to respond, knowing that if she did, their texts could go on well into the night. So she would be the one to end the conversation. She reached over to set her phone on the nightstand and she rolled onto her side, facing away from it.

It was incredibly strange, she thought to herself, that for the first time during this whole trip—perhaps for the first time in her life, even—she wasn't thinking about making a tough decision, or what her next step would be, or even if she would survive the next day.

Instead, she was thinking about just how much she was going to enjoy tomorrow. With everything in her, she was just going to _enjoy_.

—-

When Chuck opened the door the next morning, the first thing he did was pout and make a childish whiny sound, walking away from her as she moved into his suite and flopping dramatically onto the couch, his voice muffled by the cushion.

Sarah laughed and shut the door behind her. "Oh, come onnnn. It's going to be fun."

He grunted and then he flipped onto his side. "Oh, really? You wanna know what the last text was I got from Ellie last night? Ellister? The Grand Ellinator?"

Sarah laughed again as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and sat up, scanning through it and pulling the text up before handing her his phone. She burst into laughter as she read it: "Your girlfriend is snorkeling with us tomorrow. YOU'RE WELCOME, BROTHER."

"I like the all-caps there," she said. "Really emphasizes the sarcasm."

"She's a professional at texting sarcasm."

She sat next to him with a giggle. "Oh come on, Chuck. It'll be okay. Seriously."

"I know." He smiled at her and she allowed herself a moment to run her gaze down over his shoulders, chest and abdomen which was mercifully not covered with a shirt at the moment. "I'm letting Ellie have this, though. I did _not_ want to snorkel today."

"What'd you want to do instead?"

"I was thinking of finding an empty beeeach," he drawled. "Me and yoooou. Swimming and sunning. Maybe a canoodle or two."

She couldn't hold back the quiet giggle that mostly went through her nose. He was _too_ cute sometimes.

"Awwwww. Well. We're snorkeling today."

Chuck laughed at that.

They made their way down to the lobby and had to wait a few minutes for Ellie and Devon. And Sarah didn't spare the phone she'd hidden in her suite a single thought once the couple arrived.

Ellie's rushed "I'm so sorry. I wasn't sure what to wear!" made Sarah laugh for a good ten seconds. The entire family was just something else.

The rental shack was situated at the edge of the docks, about an 18 minute walk down the coast from their hotel, and when they got there, Devon took the lead.

His French was shaky at best, but it was much better than Chuck's. Nevertheless Sarah could see the swindle coming as the man working the rental place started presenting packages to the obviously American tourist. And Devon leaned in attentively, nodding politely.

The guy had tried it with her, too.

And that was why she delicately stepped forward and put a hand on the counter, sliding in to stand next to the tall blonde. "Sorry to interrupt," she said to Devon in English. "Let me just…" Devon stepped back and waved her to continue. She took his place and switched to French. "We don't need any packages," she said smoothly, knowing this man must've made a lot of money getting tourists _packages_ that cost more but were exactly the same as just renting the equipment normally.

"But if you—"

"Let me just tell you exactly what we'd like to rent, and you can tell me how much money we owe you," she cut in politely. "I'm not sure if you remember, but the whole packages thing didn't work on me last time, did it?" She raised an eyebrow.

To his credit, he chuckled and gave her a goodnatured glare, sliding the brochures for the packages off of the desk and sticking them in a nearby drawer. "What will you be needing?"

Fifteen minutes later, they stood off to the side, their suits slung over their arms, flippers, goggles, snorkels all in hand.

"What exactly happened there?" Devon finally asked.

Sarah pulled her gaze away from Chuck who seemed to be eyeing the wetsuit she held a bit…strangely, was the only way she could put it.

"Oh, he was trying to do the whole Swindle The Tourist thing. That package he was offering you includes this equipment, but it was at least 30 euros more."

"Wait, what?" He looked so offended as Ellie barked out a laugh. "Hey, you're even worse at French than I am, El, so I don't know what you're laughing at." He laughed this time as she glared and swatted his shoulder.

"Well, nobody's as bad as Chuck is," Ellie said, and Devon chuckled.

"What? How'd this become The Diss Chuck Show all of a sudden? I'm not even involved!" The curly-haired brunette dropped his flippers onto the wooden dock and made a face. "For the record, languages are not my strong-suit."

"Not at _all_ ," Devon said. "I had to help him with his Spanish homework when we first started dating," he explained to Sarah as he gestured between him and Ellie. "And the poor guy could _not_ get rid of his terrible accent."

"No. Please. Keep going," Chuck droned sarcastically.

"It's alright, bro. Your knowledge of technology is insane. None of us can touch that. You just don't have the brain for languages. It's not wired that way." Devon shrugged.

"Meanwhile, how many languages do you know, Sarah? Was it 10? 11?" Ellie asked, nudging Chuck teasingly.

That got a chuckle out of her brother as he shook his head. Even though Sarah could tell the ribbing was harmless, and that Chuck himself wasn't upset by it, more amused than anything, she felt like she might stir things up a bit.

The ex-assassin tugged her suit up her athletic body, adjusted it a bit once it was on, and turned with her back facing Chuck. She lifted her hair out of the way in a silent signal for him to help her zip her suit up. And as he did so, she shrugged and looked at him over her shoulder.

"They say opposites attract," she said, and she didn't leave much up for interpretation. Sex was dripping off of her words like honey.

And she swept past the three of them with her gear in hand, leading the way towards the water.

She heard Devon, in a not-so-subtle tone of voice, exclaim, "BRO!"

As they came up beside her at the edge of the dock, Sarah fixed her goggles over her eyes and stepped into her flippers, before jumping into the water without hesitation. It was a little cold, thanks to the rains and cooler weather of the last few days, which made her glad Ellie had insisted on the "full enchilada" experience with the wetsuits.

She watched from behind the goggles as her companions folded themselves into their own suits, taking turns zipping each other up. Chuck was ready first, and she did her best to disguise the fact that she was 100% checking him out in his wetsuit.

He didn't look bad at all. On the contrary, it was pretty hot, seeing the black neoprene stretched over his wide shoulders and thin waist, sculpting his thighs, his biceps, clinging to his body. She decided she liked tall men in wetsuits especially. It specifically highlighted the strength in Chuck's body.

Chuck stood at the edge, fixing his goggles over his eyes as she watched. His flippers stuck out over the wooden dock and it was kind of adorable, she thought.

"Come on!" she called up to him.

He pressed his lips together under the mask, his cheeks a little pooched.

Something in him bespoke reluctance, so she moved her goggles back up to her forehead. "Hey! Get in here! What's wrong?"

Ellie jumped in beside Sarah with a loud "WOO!" and made the ex-spy giggle as she treaded water like a professional, watching as Devon jumped in after his fiancée.

"How cold is it?" Chuck asked.

"It's fine."

"Okay, but how cold is fine? I need specifics."

"Chuck, stop. You go in the Pacific all the time and this is not even _close_ to that cold," Ellie said.

The look on the self-proclaimed nerd's face was one of utmost amusement, which made Sarah realize he was just being difficult to be funny.

"No, it's fine," she said, fixing her goggles back over her eyes. "The longer he stands up there, the longer I get to check him out in that tight wetsuit."

The splash he made when he lept in just barely muffled the rest of their laughter, and when he popped up again, she saw humor and maybe something else—something she liked very much and was for her alone to see—in his eyes.

Sarah acted as the honorary tour guide, leading them down towards a less populated area where the water was much more clear, lacking in boat traffic, and outfitted with a stunning array of marine life flitting about the rocks and shallows.

Because they only had snorkels, they stayed in the more shallow areas where they could see better without diving down too far.

Eventually, Ellie and Devon wandered far enough away that she and Chuck were virtually alone in their own little pocket. She felt his hand curl around hers, their fingers threaded, and she followed his finger as he pointed. A small school of blue fish swept in a lazy back and forth pattern along the white sandy floor.

Sarah nestled up close to Chuck's side and watched, smiling around the mouthpiece of her snorkel as they darted off quickly, away from the shore.

Unable to hold her breath for much longer, Sarah kicked her feet to swim up and break the surface, she pulled the mouthpiece away from her lips and took a deep breath as Chuck broke next to her, doing the same. He moved his goggles up to his forehead and grinned.

"Okay, I'm glad I didn't miss out on this. It's stunning."

She removed her own goggles, finding her footing on a bit of a mound and standing there with her chin above water as she cleaned the goggles with the water. "See? Much better than swimming, sunning and canoodling."

"I mean, yeah, but we don't necessarily have to nix the canoodling, do we?"

With that, he sidled up close to her and she felt his hands on her hips over the wetsuit. And then he leaned in to kiss her slowly, but the snorkel bonked her on the cheek and they both moved back, chuckling.

"Not as easy to canoodle out here. Noted," he said, still chuckling.

"I can fix that," she said, reaching up to grab his goggles and pulling them off as well, removing the restriction that had existed before. And without missing a beat, she swam into him, rounded his shoulders with her arms, and kissed him soundly.

She admittedly got a little lost, not quite knowing how long they were there for, kissing as the water swelled gently around their shoulders.

And then she heard a feminine "Awwww!" at the same time as, "Say cheese!"

The ex-spy pulled back from the kiss and sent wide eyes over at Devon who treaded water while holding up a water-proof, disposable camera. Chuck laughed, his arms tightening around Sarah.

"Dear God, Devon! Did you go back to 1997 to buy that thing, or what?"

"Hey. They work, okay?"

But Sarah was too focused on the camera to hear anything else the two men bantered over, because her picture was now in that camera and she wasn't sure what to do about it.

Yes, she was free from under the CIA's boot. She was no longer beholden to them, to the job. But she still didn't want her picture taken. Not when it was so easy to take something like that and pass it around. It was like she'd told Casey just the other day: Living in the shadows had been what kept her from being killed all these years.

And that meant not letting anybody capture her likeness in any kind of drawing, painting, photograph. If there were images of her anywhere, she stamped them out. The fact that her enemies didn't know what she looked like was why she was alive now, enjoying this moment.

"Hey…Sarah, you okay?"

She shook herself and looked back at Chuck, feigning embarrassment. "Oh. Yeah! Yeah, that just…You guys surprised me. I wouldn't have been mauling you if I'd known they were there," she said, feeling lame for having to lie.

But her picture was in that camera now, and she wasn't sure she could let it stay there.

"Maul away!" Ellie said. "Though, like, keep it to tame mauling while I'm around. I'd like to actually enjoy my lunch later."

Devon merely flashed a thumbs up and beamed, his perfect teeth shining bright in the sunlight.

They spent another hour exploring, sometimes all of them together, other times breaking off into various pairings, until eventually, they all agreed to swim back to the dock.

Ellie climbed up the ladder and out of the water first, followed by Sarah, then Chuck, and finally Devon. And they all ended up seated at the edge of the dock with their feet dangling down over the water, their gear and suits in a pile behind them.

"Naaature is amaaaziiiing," Ellie sang from next to Sarah, tipping her head back, shutting her eyes, and letting the sun beat down on her face.

"Isn't it, though?" Chuck piped up from Sarah's other side. "Like, imagine getting to see that every day. I wish I was a marine biologist."

"You wouldn't get to play video games every day if you were a marine biologist," his sister answered.

"Oh, good point. Maybe not, then."

Sarah smiled at their banter, but could see Devon fiddling with the camera on his lap on Ellie's other side. And she hated herself for the thoughts she was having. Maybe on their way back she'd bump into him and he'd drop it. Maybe it'd fall in front of a car or something and get run over. Maybe she could sneak into Ellie and Devon's suite and steal the film from the little plastic piece of crap camera he'd probably bought for super cheap in a gift shop or something like that.

Or maybe she wasn't a spy anymore, and she needed to stop thinking like one.

"Let's eat some food," Devon finally said, and she watched as he slipped the camera into the pocket of his cargo trunks. Damn it.

They walked back to the rental place, turning in their gear. And Sarah had to chuckle to herself as she caught the man Chuck called Captain Awesome sending the worker who'd tried to fool him into buying a package "deal" a look that said quite plainly that he was _not awesome_.

As they retraced their steps from a few hours earlier back to their hotel, Sarah noticed Ellie subtly maneuvering herself to end up at her shoulder. And she smirked inwardly. "So, Sarah…"

 _Here we go…_

"I've been curious. This job of yours…It sounds pretty exciting. Jet-setting around the world, getting to talk to people from all walks of life, experiencing different cultures and different languages…You must have met a lot of really cool diplomats and celebrities, huh?" she asked.

Sarah tucked a strand of still damp hair behind her ear and tilted her head thoughtfully. "Here and there, but I mean, it's not as exciting as it sounds. There is a lot of time spent sitting at a desk, translating texts—" She assumed. She didn't know for sure, but she figured if she made that part up, Ellie wouldn't know the difference, right? "But a lot of it is kind of…dull, you know?"

"How so?"

"Well, it's less talking _to_ people and more just…Well, passing on information. A lot of times, I—I guess I feel like a machine." She got a lost a little. "I'm just kind of there, a mediator, following orders—I-I mean, I have to get everything right. Every nuance."

"Right, you get something wrong and who knows how someone might take it, or what kinds of international incidents it might cause…" Ellie said. "That must be difficult."

"It is. But it's kind of good, I guess, that I go virtually unnoticed for the most part. If they don't know who I am, they can't blame me." She smirked as the brunette laughed.

"Alas! I don't have that safety net. If I fuck up a surgery, they'll know exactly who to blame."

Sarah laughed and then winced a little. "Yikes."

"I know. What kind of freak would get themselves into something like this?" She pointed her thumb at herself and then smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Someone who has the fortitude, courage, and general badassery of a superhero," Chuck chimed in from where he was walking behind them. And Sarah saw him lean forward to grab his sister's shoulders, giving her a teasing squeeze. But as the younger woman glanced back, she saw there was pride in his face.

In that moment, she thought she might've given anything to have someone—anyone—look at her like that.

But when had she ever done anything worthy of pride?

"Mmmm, sweet, Chuck. Really sweet. But I think I'm also a freak."

They all laughed when Devon sang, "She's a very freaky giiiiirl. The kind you don't take home to mothaaaaah."

Chuck threw his hands up. "I think you two just found your First Dance song for the wedding."

Ellie spun to give him an emphatic and almost scary "No" at the same time as Devon double pointing at Chuck and exclaiming, "YES!" Then he turned to his future wife and spread his hands out wide. "Babe, why nooot?"

They laughed together as he darted in to give her a comfortable looking hug from the side, kissing her cheek sloppily. And they broke off together to walk a bit ahead.

Sarah watched with a smile, her smile widening as Chuck slipped in next to her and bumped her shoulder with his, a bit shyly she thought.

"So I'm assuming we're all splitting off to freshen up and meet back for eats. You want to come?"

She hugged herself and nodded a bit. "Yeah. Sure."

"Okay. Cool." There was a slightly awkward pause then. Awkward only because she knew he had something else to say, but for some reason, he just wasn't saying it. And then he finally spoke up. "Just…You know, just so you know. The reason why I didn't invite you myself—for the snorkeling I mean—is that I, um, I was genuinely sure it would be an embarrassing experience." He winced.

She smiled. "First of all, you don't have to worry about me feeling put out about that. So take that off the table." She giggled as he swept his arm out to pretend he was pushing it off an imaginary table. "Good. Secondly, why'd you think it was gonna be so embarrassing?"

"I'm not—" He winced again and sighed. "I'm not all that good at being adventurous. Like I've said, like Ellie's said…I'm really very…Uh, I'm kinda stuck in my ways. Not-Not a conscious choice, mind you. It's just that I have a lot of work all the time, and a lot of responsibilities and I don't make time for other stuff. So every day is…kind of similar. Not that my work is the same every day. Farrrrr from it." He widened his eyes. "But even something as simple as snorkeling had me like 'Ahhhhh oh my Godddd what if I diiiie?' It's incredibly mortifying, but there it is." He narrowed his eyes and looked away, pressing his lips together.

She wanted to ask why her coming had anything to do with that, but the truth was that she already knew. At least, she could surmise. Chuck Bartowski was human, with flaws and frailties, vulnerabilities. He'd misjudged, thought _she'd_ judge, if she saw his nerves, or as he insinuated, his fear. He'd probably thought she'd think he was a wimp.

And even though no man she'd ever slept with before would've ever been afraid of something as simple as snorkeling, if they _had_ been afraid, none of them would have ever admitted it to anyone, let alone to her.

She felt her chest fill up with…something. She didn't know what. But it felt really good. Warm and tight.

She didn't ask. She wouldn't put him through having to admit he was trying to impress her, that this probably wouldn't be very impressive and that was why he'd actively not invited her today.

Instead, she kept it inside, sliding her hand down to thread her fingers with his. She wasn't sure she even knew what to say. But the small smile she saw in her peripheral told her he was reassured enough by her taking his hand.

They did split off to freshen up, as Chuck said they might, with the plan to meet again in the lobby, per usual, in one hour.

And this time, Sarah did press the floor number for her own suite.

She stood in the center of her bedroom a few moments later, staring at the change of clothes she'd grabbed and now held in her hands. Then she turned and eyed the bathroom. She turned again to look down at the clothes in her hands.

The newly retired CIA agent—or perhaps soon-to-be retired, as the case officially was with Graham not contacting her—had heard stories of fellow agents who'd been murdered in bathtubs, in showers. Spies were the most vulnerable during sleep, which was why one of the veteran trainers during her time at the Farm joked about knowing a secret agent by the dark circles under their eyes—something not even the best makeup could disguise. But the second most vulnerable time for an agent was when they bathed. It was a private moment every human privileged enough to have running water at their disposal enjoyed.

Sarah didn't know what other agents did when they bathed or showered, for she'd never been in a shower with one of them, with _anyone_ , before. But she knew she didn't take weapons with her. Knives would rust. And wet guns didn't fire in life-saving moments.

She would be vulnerable if she got into that shower right now.

And she knew, without a doubt, that she'd be even more vulnerable with someone else in that shower with her.

It was a gift to that person if they were an enemy agent. A small and enclosed space, slippery surfaces, hard tile, the mortification of nakedness…all of these would work against her.

Fighting back the nerves, ignoring the tingle in her limbs, the spots at the edge of her vision, and the small nagging voice at the back of her mind telling her this could be a bad, bad decision, Sarah grabbed the unused laundry bag from her closet, shoved her clothes and a few other important pieces into it, and swept out of her suite altogether, deciding on taking the stairs because they were faster, and hoping she hadn't waited too long.

* * *

Thanks, again! Please review.

 **SarahsSupplyCloset**


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